They appear on a building sunning itself
unaware of the shadow flying by
cast by a red-stone church.

Wings cast as shadow from spire and nave
glidelike the sun-silvered flight
of pigeons,volatile wind and cloud.

They spell a moment, then move on
as I read a haiku by Sonome, about a woman
drawing eyebrows on a melon,
longing for love.
I mistake two o’s as eyes
in someone. Then look up and see the wings
have changed to
                                eyebrows raised
for dreams that seem so real.