I’d be first on the beach
If not for the gulls
There before the sun
Feasting without satiation.
Tap, Tap, TAP
Crack, a hole
Death intrudes
Without invitation.
To a crustacean
A gull’s heart
Is as hard
As its beak.
The sun now
Five fingers above
The horizon
I’m late for breakfast.
Left behind
My footsteps pass
A seashell landfill
But no remorse.
No comments:
Post a Comment