A silent morning pales the sky;
I linger on the edge of the earth.
Serene breaths of salt fill my lungs
as air swirls in the light's rebirth.
The seagulls begin crying
with the joy of a new day.
I feel my spirit join the flight
as they glide across the bay.
An icy breeze brings a chill
and sends whispers down my spine,
whispers of the winds of destiny,
as vague as the incoming tide.
And though the haze blurs the horizon,
I will choose to stay outside
and wait for the fog to clear away
until the faintest light has died.
Author notes
Inspired by "The Matter (Of Our Discussion)" by boom bip and my favorite poem, "George Gray" by Edgar Lee Masters.
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