Cut up like birthday cake 

The light beneath birds on Spring morning.

Pink light of new dawn holds them up.

Perfect

silhouettes.

All set against a day not fully formed as yet

idly haiku scrawled across by passing jet.

Comet tail,

whale wake,

cuts the sky like birthday cake,

making morning world seem

flat.

being very wrong in that.

An old mistake

Planes above us,

change gear

air rushes.

They cease to be floating

Orange, fish-like toys

and add grinding mechanic to hillside noise.

Wings push away air

like an old mistake.

On distant oceans

bubbles form

and break.