Classic Poem

I was as a sieve for the wind this morning:
I hurried to be out of it:
Zero weather, merciless and grey …

Yet there on the pave beside the park rail,
Leaning toward the brown frozen grass,
Stood one so thinly clad,
He bit on a wad of paper between his teeth to cover his lips and nose,
His jacket was stuffed with newspaper, his shoes with rags …
He was all puffy red and bleary and huddled …

At the same time he was throwing bits of stale bread to some sparrows …