The Gulls

The Gulls

The ragged clouds of gulls come over the trees,
frayed and straggling, black against a grey sky,
chasing the last fragments of the sun,
and each is tethered to the next by stray wings,
in two or threes, clutches, small sprays of shadow
that spring from the occluding forest,
that are swallowed by the indefinite brightness of the horizon,
like bits of ash returning to the fire that first flung them
into the high and cooling air of a still un-starred sky.

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2 comments
  1. d said:

    Have you read Oriana Fallaci’s novel ‘A Man’? She became very racist near the end of her life, but it is an incredible novel. In the beginning, there is a gorgeous description of a bird flying over an ocean.

  2. d,

    No, I have never even heard of A Man. I will keep my eye open for it.

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