Scythe the salt tang
Rising on wave draughts
The gull sang
Rare
Raucous cries
The salt wind
Tears
From the sky.
Held in her eye
A shape on the edge
Of seeing.
Soaring high,
She gives cry,
A cape on the edge
Of being.
Land ahoy,
She sighs,
Drifting
On a
Salt tang sky.
Land ahoy.
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