A Matter of Perspective

Five forty five PM, Parliament road. I was waiting for green lights in drizzling rain.
On the grass outside my door, two birds.
They were walking about on the grass.
Water drops gathered on their feathers.
I wondered why they had not sought shelter.
Then one fluffed and was dry again.
The other followed a little later.
They seemed happy, I could have sworn,
I saw them smile for a fleeting moment.
For that moment on that grassy divider,
Amidst the maddening rush hour
Time did not matter.
For those two birds of a feather,