Seagulls, thrifty as thrushes,
Circling in the early hours of day.
And the silence…
Following a thunderous shower at midnight.
The sounds of early morning,
Coming intermittently as I turn on the light.
The rapture of a peculiar dream,
Which leaves me refreshed yet puzzle…
As if waiting for another out of reach;
Yet happy that more will come.
Sweating over the closeness of the air;
And ready to rise…
The gulls echoing across the sky…
As free as they should be.
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