Thursday, May 3, 2012

Coming Home

In the east,
shining white windmills
stand still against the high blue
fading to softest pink,
holding their breath,
for winter southerlies.

In the west,
a child’s black-pencilled seagulls
rise up from their meal
in the remains of the maize field
and fly toward the sun
setting in the luminescent
gold-edged, apricot sunset.

A lopsided
pale silver

ps I love living where I do, and coming home is always a joy - but particularly tonight.

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