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Doreen Miori-Merola
Poet
I left the Civic Center after a late fall authorís lecture. Apparently my husband had fallen asleep, because he was late picking me up. After the crowd dispersed, I thought I was all alone in the circle because there wasnít a sound in the moonlit night. Looking around, I noticed that the trees had already lost (what I thought was) almost all of their leaves. Then there was a loud noise. Iím not even sure what it was. The sound startled this incredibly large flock of black crows that had been roosting in the bare trees around the old library. Suddenly Columbus Circle came alive with the fluttering of black feathers. It reminded me that perhaps we are never truly alone. The haiku developed in my head with that momentary sensory experience.

Roosting in bare trees
Over Columbus Circle
The crows are black leaves.

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