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Each Wing Alive

Gulls roost in downdraft float
     And updraft boomerang
     And coast, wheel, and hang
Above the harbor, circling over boat
And passersby. They loop
     Back through skyline, and glide
     Thermal, each wing alive
To wind’s inflections, in swoop
And swoon. They seem to race
     Yet scamper and careen
     Above the day’s routine
That craves unscheduled grace.
Posted 03/16/14
from Wildfire, Candleflame (Rose Alley Press, 2005)
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