I saw St Peter at the supermarket
buying some shells and straw
for his nest.
He carried them in his mouth
and paid with nails and a blessing.
A kind of a barter, I guess,
and PAK’nSAVE were fine with it.
He really was bird-like
and the longer I think about it
the more owlish was his head.
He was beaky and swivelly
and his eyes were too big
for his cheeks.
After the transaction
he flapped a wing
and met St Augustine at the exit.
They made for a striking pair:
St Peter with his shells and Born To Dance T-shirt, and
St Augustine, raven-black plumes under his
coat of many colours.
The traffic in the carpark seemed distracted
and they nearly were run over
by a pale Tesla next to the trolley return.
St Augustine squawked and gave it the finger.
St Peter nearly dropped his supplies
and lurched like a drunk but didn’t fall.
I got in my car and headed for home.
As I turned on to Wainoni Road
I saw them sitting at the bus stop laughing:
Two old soldiers with Seniors Cards
having the time of their volucrine lives.