Photo Credit: Susan Spaulding
He sat quiet, watching the coming and going in the park, Alfred standing to the side, staring off towards the pond.
“After we eat, don’t worry,” he said, taking a bite of his biscuit. Sipping coffee. Tossing half of another to his friend. Alfred ignored the sharing.
He shrugged. It was early. Alfred wasn’t a morning bird.
Neither of them were young. Maybe that was why they were such good friends. Both of them looking at the world from the wrong end of the telescope.
He hope Alfred went first. Who’d take care of him if he passed first? Alfred was a quiet bird, a reflective bird, set in his ways.
Taking his last bite of biscuit, he crumbled the bag and tossed it into the trash bin. Two points. He still had it.
Glancing down, he saw Alfred eating his biscuit, settled back to wait. Friends waited for each other. Friends accepted each other. Friends were friends.
Besides, he enjoyed the quiet. The pond would wait.