Bathed in a black green cool shade
beneath an intense midsummer sun
a lone gull cry bids attentive skyward glance.
Searing white shapes
with black tipped wings
weave a magical dance
as suddenly as the opening cry,
into an infinite cloudless blue.
The disarming gentle breeze
lifts ideas and scatters them
to the ground.
As I gather fallen thoughts
being as careful at the beginning
as at the end,
the voice behind the wall whispers:
“The way is to the world
as the river and sea
are to rivulets and streams -
I blunt the sharpness,
untangle the knots
and soften the glare.