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The Gull A lake ninety miles long crowned with inviting waters that conceal mystic tones the shade of unnamed depths Shorelines plucked from infinity dappled in their attainment are jeweled in lichen sprinkled over patterns of boreal rock face Several shores lines note intermittent clearings houses fields where gulls entreat the land rejecting the sweet of a lake seized in pure, bold water spray But you carrion bird you who’d sooner trash about while eagles track endless heights through skies that veil angel wings you with unemployed webbed feet soar only above the hollows of land and rubbish. |
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