A Bite Of Supper (Poetry)

The last car passes
engine noise fading
sucked into silence
the street relaxes
harbours its litter

The waiting shadows
crouched low in corners
sniff the fume-filled air
emerge stealthily
declare themselves fox

Scroungers by nature
the patriarch leads
assessing danger
strict pecking order
observed as he feeds

on thrown-away scraps
restaurant leavings
Thai, Greek or Chinese —
he isn’t fussy
kebab, crispy duck

Two cubs, impatient
topple a bin pause ...
with window thrown wide
some sleep-bleary man
yells threats at the dark