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The Seagull



This morning an angel

suddenly swooped down

in front of my car


soaring smoothly on silent wings

and a prayer

and the wind, flowing

beneath the milk-white feathers of its breast.


Looming large before me,

It held my eye

with its quiet eye,

like the center of a storm.


For a moment in time

we flew on together,

then up and away, it rose

beyond my view,


and ever since,

I have been flying,

uplifted, somehow held,

within the shadow of those wings.

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