Seeing

A gull stands sentry 
on a steepled roof 
high, still, wings close, 
 at attention. 
Light gray gull against 
 dark gray sky 
flying behind
the gull's un-flying, 
many miles from the sea, 
far from salt water 
but close to me. 
I see the gull
from where I stand. 
And from where he stands 
upon the steepled roof 
above the slated ground 
what he sees 
is the sea.

Ira Joe Fisher

A Scattering of Verse

Free

The snowflakes aren’t falling,
they’re floating,
rolling,
playing
in the pine-shadowed day.
Snowflakes reluctant
to end their frost-kissed
tumbling
through the biting air,
reluctant
to lock
their pieces of heaven
upon earth,
to end their giddy descent
as shackled gems
with nothing to do
but sparkle.


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