He’s walking down a corridor

An alley if you will

Babbling incoherently

And spots a whippoorwill

His plumage torn and tattered

Unlike the whippoorwill

He sways a bit while standing

The whippoorwill is still

He mimics as the songbird

Whistles through the wind

To echo down the asphalt

A savant wunderkind

The beauty of their warbling

Illuminates the skies

Above the trash and litter

The imagery belies

The artist with his oils

Can capture with a glance

The soul that’s dormant lying

A moment met by chance