You make a sound as if to say—Land Ahoy

A cabin boy claiming first sight

A ship nearing the oh so distant shore

Magpie rattle in the shushing pines

Then the trill of laughing warblers

Thin bones with all the trimmings

Getting about with a stick tap taps

Another day getting short

You make a small noise like clearing

a throat or a twig cracking underfoot

Here comes the night frame

You know why children do not want

to grow up

You adjust your spectacles

You adjust your backside on the hard

wooden seat as the seagull settles

on the wooden rail enchanting or

infuriating You make a

sound to unwelcome the

gull  It looks at you with perfect

eyesight and youthful pleasure

A splendid red beak and legs

Eyes oh so round

and perfectly drawn

Ignores your gruff exhalation

And you are yet to tinker with imperfection

And to leave a laden heart