Tuesday, April 23, 2013

23. Lonely

The gull is lonely in vigil
like wind blown seed
nested in an impossible place,
a sentry flowering at the palace gate,
or the piper when the last post of the day
has been muted
by darkness.

These rocks are not resounding
with the barking of birds
the clashing of wings
and stumbling landings.
The waterfalls of their litter,
evidence of occupation,
in quiet stalactites of white
reach for the cleansing sea
in silence.

First to return,
or last to leave,
the enigmatic gull
is lonely.

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