Marcus:

Twirling autumn leaves gusting in the old walk way in old cape town

pigeons seeking shelter shoulders hunched, eyes cast down

soaring far above, a man on a ladder

painting to a rhythm, obscured by wind

Joanne:

Just stare long enough and details emerge

the man is painting white icing onto a gingerbread building,

the pigeons are talking into tiny microphones hidden in

their wing-pockets,

and the wind’s using leaves to caress our faces

Signal Hill Winery