Song
Facing down wind in a dust-storm
wrapped up in his cloak
and wearing a hat that can’t make him vanish —
this skinny man
scans the horizon
gathering — but not quite yet — flowers
until the moment you meet
(… but stuck in this narrow alleyway
among mountains of rubbish
he longs to lift up his beak
unfurl his wings
and take flight…)
turbidus 