Christmas mood

I got closer and the doves flew away.
Loners we stayed with the square.
The magic on the flight is beauty but also separation...the crumbs prepared for the birds, clung to the clenched palms. The things left undistributed, until hopes dawn buried. We are pigeons for fear of being hurt we fly away, drenched in truths...truths - unseen misunderstood unsolicited...