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The Gull

By Ruth Calder Murphy (Arciemme)

The morning is clear,

riding in on the back of moonbeams

and surfing the crests of clouds.

Coffee in hand,

I stand,

nowhere to look but up

and there,

flying high,

flying free,


through the pale dawn sky,

a single,

silent gull,

heading for faraway sea.

My smile catches on its wings,

a bright,

joy-filled bit of me,

soaring towards wider horizons

on a fresher breeze.

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