faces etched on clouds

huddles of waiting people

watching helplessly

clinging to his perch

the tallest, thinnest of twigs

the crow’s raucous cry

at Berlin station

come home with us we have space

placards fluttering

with sincerity

laying flowers for the dead

five children detained

looking at the sky

searching for something to say

when words can’t express

next door my neighbour

practising her piano

a comforting sound

from the window seat

watching the darkling sky, snow

on the wind like ash

still waters belie

the turmoil where currents meet

at the confluence

today a large owl

sits where pigeons like to roost

on winter branches

the sun returning

from vacation streams through

grimy window panes