Things Poetic

 Seagulls Making a joke of themselves, the strong neck turns the head, fixing a stare looking at the food in my hand claiming it, in its mind, even if not in reality 'Mine, Mine' they call their chicks, brown and gly, crowd around whilst the adults look around calling to the winds the sound of the sea soaring effortlessly across the sky, lifting and falling returning my soul to the sea after so long

 silence Its quiet this morning, no cars, nothing to break the stillness, the birds softly call to each other, seemingly unperturbed by the otherwise still morning Call and retort,  Call and amplify pigeons, robins, starlings, tits, rooks and insects vying for the silence to express Sitting, I experience this silence physically and emotionally and it isn't vying for space with the noise in my head where darkness swirls in a whirlpool of thought, experience, joy and pain I can feel it on my skin, this crisp quiet morning even the misty sunrise doesn't disturb it is embraces it