Monday, April 18, 2011

Ross Plovnick: "Gulls"

Granted we live we die, whose god
would opt to end a world like this
and why when doomsday
seems to loom is air so
crisp, the tide so
prompt, sand
so delicate
in fact
it flows
like surf alive
with calculating
gulls, time winding
down, no better place
to go than to never know
their world will end the way
a fraction of ours ends each day?