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The seagulls are blowing about
like pieces of white paper,
in the gentle swell of the breeze;
just as yesterday in a dust-devil,
I saw a piece of waste paper
doing the most graceful ballet,
turning and rolling up the brick wall
of a square pillar,
it folded and unfolded at the whim of the wind,
and catching my attention as it first rose,
kept me mesmerised by the beauty of it's dance.

Such suddenly presented moments
do not last, their very acts
caused by random air currents
that catch or snatch all delicate things,
and tossing them to space, play with them;
are these nature's toys, that she employs
fired with the momentum of desire?
She can overdo and bring catastrophe
on beach and hill, tear off chimney pots
crack the rocks and devastate this earth,
when she was only playing,
toying with her force,
and does she feel remorse?

Style / type: 
Free verse
Last few words: 
Today I saw the seagulls in front of the hills of grey blue and their whitness stood out, as they wheeled round and across each other in random patterns, so it reminded me of sitting in the car yesterday, Erik went in to get his book cover printed, while I watched an approx.1' sq piece of waste paper doing a dance; I tried to film it, but it was too far away, I couldn't get out of the car for fear of having to pay 50 pounds for parking where it was strictly NOT ALLOWED, so I stayed but very reluctantly, and watched this ballet...
Editing stage: 


I read this a night or so ago, but didn't have time to comment, it is a lovely world out there swirling around, I wrote once as you have, where I was at a Bus station and saw a ticket flutter from the hands of a girl and twirl its way to the ground, there time stood still and many stories came out of that one ticket falling through the air, as with your piece of paper..
Loved it, Yours Ian.T

There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..

Yes, if we are aware of things around us, life is richer,
those who don't see, and there are many of them,
lose out on the richness of this existence don't they Ian?

Love Ann.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

author comment

the clutter and whisper in wind freshets churning shadows
Intensely creative collected words here Ann
I appreciate this season and from my balance of visions
there is nothing like the return of movement in water
wing and wind

Thank You Esker!

A lovely comment Esker, "the return of movement in water
wing and wind" yes and we have had the sun three weeks of it,
cold at night, but today the snow is falling yet again.

Love Ann.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

author comment
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