Sometimes a dove will sit on the railing
and swivel its head, very canny, very wise -
late afternoon and the light’s quietly failing
but something breath taking happens to the skies.
A high rigged truck will come around trailing
its discordant sounds topped by pneumatic sighs
and leave a fluorescent silence where words die
drop out defeated however hard they try.
Ordinary events of urban landscapes -
a flash of coloured scarf, a certain note
of moonlight and the changing shadow shapes.
The calligraphic wakes of a speedboat
mirrored by migrant flamingos as they fly.
Sometimes the words just won’t fit - that’s why.