The Gulls

Early in the morning as the quiet of night is fading, I hear the kakakaka akakak of the gulls calling; and outside my window they glide in a swooping dance, as night turns into a blue sky, they twirl and swirl and glide. Drifting on the breeze with wings outspread, above tall majestic maples they just hover; then, suddenly they are gone from view. Gone the beauty to farmers crops that ripple in the sun- to parks and water they rest and feed 'till day fades to sunset. ___________________________ July 28, 2015 Poetry/Verse/The Gulls Copyright Protected, ID 15-1072-098-01 All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym. Submitted to the contest, No. 125 Standard sponsor, Brian Strand First Place