on a white cloud
our plane’s silhouette
in a circle of light

warm evening...
a dumped ice cream trickles
towards the kerb

sultry morning...
from the washing up bottle
a rush of bubbles

early evening
two wagtails flicker
along the footpath

early morning walk...
on the path a red rose
its petals scattered

sun-flecked sky—through
an old window pane a pigeon
distorts then fades away

census day—for a moment
three geese fly parallel
                     with our train