TITLE: Gulls 2
By Lesley-Anne Evans
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Gulls are drifting inland transported on updrafts from the sea.
Wantonly weightless they pass overhead, screaming
to me of flight and freedom.
Creature of the middle earth I stand in salt spray, toes
sinking into wet sand, thoughts sinking deeper.
I lift my face to the sun, breath deeply of ozone, and consider
their foreign tongue.
Then, rusty hinges on the screen door and
you call me from the cottage.
Warmly familiar voice carried on the wind, you beckon me.
I turn toward the welcome parameters of our love and life.
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