A Feathered Critic

I hopped down from the cold concrete ledge and marched toward an expansive wooden park bench to deliver an afternoon soliloquy. Just as I belted out a rhythmic crescendo, a small pigeon waddled up, tilting its head in sheer intrigue! An actor must always cultivate his audience, especially feathered comrades! I carefully nudged a stray sunflower seed shell with my stem, offering it like a velvet-lined tribute. The pigeon pecked at the wood beside me, cooing an offbeat cadence that harmonized wonderfully with my voice. What a magnificent impromptu ensemble!