by-Matthew F. Blowers III

The Various Callings Found Seaside.

Each time I hear them

they sound so different to me.

As a child it was as if

the gulls were laughing,

with delight at all the wonders

of the shore and its delectable treats.

Ice cream cones and sandwich crust

tossed in the air as they swooped

to claim each tidbit,

in a flurry of feathers.

As a poet it was

the song of the sea.

A melody of two notes

shrill and clear,

against the synthesized roar

of the waves endless rhythms.

While the bright babble

of eight notes

crescendoed from the

sunbathers voices of glee,

over the vast waters

that separate us

from distant lands.

When I was in love,

as we strolled hand in hand

along the shore they seemed

to circle us above,

in a most heavenly display

of how our own two hearts

fluttered and soared,

on the heated winds.

Over the heated passion of

beauty magnified against

a horizon of forever.

But when I was alone,

seeking fellowship with

the vast emptiness

that the ocean portrays,

the seagulls calls were

wails of despair,

echoing through my soul

in a cacophony of

"Why me, Why me."

Yet even still their

companionship was comforting

in contrast to the

vacant space at my side