Near the dumpster, <br />The crows are the masters, <br />Cawing as the sequencers, <br />Chasing one another, <br />As the rowdy bouncers, <br />Circling around the barriers, <br />Looking for the leftovers, <br />Commotion is everywhere, <br />Confusion is the hardware, <br />Peace they not aware, <br />Traits of every poor, <br />To dine with no war, <br />Of words seldom seen, <br />In these abode, <br />The mothers boil, <br />The fathers kindle, <br />The children suffer, <br />The crows caw aloud. <br />Near the dumpster, <br />Silent diners are here, <br />But they coexist, <br />and are unaware, <br />in the other world.<br /><br />veeraiyah subbulakshmi<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/why-do-poor-people-shout/
