Noticed

Two pigeons
wondering
what to do
one Sunday
afternoon,
very gray,
it had
snowed
for months
in Maine,
one sat on
one branch,
another on
a branch below,
just looked
around the
provinces
where it was
going to snow
again. They
kept moving
their heads,
like philosophers
or old ladies,
had their
picture taken
by this dim
poem and then
they disappeared,
for a while.