Gull

A mammoth gull of sepia

A slab of tide in afternoon

The rain is coming up, not down

While birds maintain their stroll

I feel some synesthesia

Though nature always makes us swoon

Oppressed it is, and by the town

But still it heals the soul

Speaking of my common theme, your soul appears before my eyes

Waves are your divinity, the gulls are your command

You float along, as in my dream, and your spirit flies