On The Beach- Reflection

Tuesday, November 19, 1969


Hearing a sharp cry above me, I look up to see one lonely seagull gliding in an endless series of spirals. Now and then, his wings flicker, but mostly, it seems as if the winds were playing a relentless game of toss. Scavenger that he is, the gull’s sharp eyes watch each wave ever hopeful of some good thing to be tossed his way.

For a brief moment, he lights near me, on an old piece of wood that someone, or something, has thrown onto the landscape. Eying me quizzically, he looks as if he is about to ask, “What are you; who are you; what, or who, do you hope to be?” Then, he shakes his feathers and flies off with a piercing shriek.

I watch him, a puff of white, watch until the mist around swallows him up. “Come back”, I shout, “Come back and speak of the secrets you saw, in me, that frightened you away”. I think I hear a cry float back.

Ah, Scavenger bird, how like you I am. I, too, glide in my own never-ending circles, spying the waves of humanity for the food to feed my soul.


About elrondsilvermaul

I never know what to say about myself. I let what I write try to speak as to who I am. I can only add, here, that I am 72, live in a nursing home, am twenty years a cancer survivor, and identify as a gay male. I intend to use this blog as storage for poems? written over the long years (and still being written). This does not preclude other uses.
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