the rude shadow

Ah! Courtesy. Everywhere thine shadow falls
we look up and behold your wingèd shape
of grace - it's a bird it's a plane,
it's Courtesy. No, it is only a bird

that hangs, blotting the sun from one's face
and a rude plop from shadow-hid cloaca

as you stand there, with mouth agape

and wondering in the relative gloom

so perfectly-placed