A June afternoon and Soho square is packed with people, lounging, lunching, scattering themselves like litter over the grass. Pigeons rest up – too hot for canoodling. Unwelcome squatters with little regard for the history of the half-timbered gardener’s hut, treating it as a luxurious dovecote , a crow’s nest even as look out for a snatched meal. Through the open doors of St Patrick’s, shade seekers, ecclesiastic enthusiasts and church goers are lured. The latter know it is the feast of the Sacred Heart. Spoken in 3 languages, a mass for the mix of congregation to comprehend whilst a lapsed Catholic has no understanding of how she came to be here this day.
prayers in strange tongues
city doves hum the refrain
June lifts all our hearts
A haibun written as a Quotidian – an ordinary happening – for dVerse Poet’s Pub