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I am the eye of a gull,

Manmade

A permanent watch

Above the white maned sea

A billion particles,

As many as there are stars,

Change the shape of the waves

Seasonally

If two grains meet so many times

in all that commotion

Winter’s thrashing and Summer’s still

Is that fate?

I record fate, and miracles,

I call the chorus of seabirds

Across the sky, a film-maker

For those who notice, the beauty of slow motion

Recognise what I can mean

Besides deciding if its worth the trip

And the parking fee

I see

Sun browned

Each moment of thrill, and every fall hard won

Laughing dogs

each dawn, following the hours missing

Two ships on the horizon,

Wintering here

Bright moons, a string of vessels

Blurred and alien

The lens black, exact lines of white

Spraypaint quickening along the shore,

Stark and nightly

My focus lost often in the tedious grey

And rain-splashed glass

The long days

Do I, constant and awake, confined inside a mind

With no vehicle nor wings

Do I wish for much more?