I hear the gulls first

I hear the gulls first
because [in truth, in fact]
they never sleep –
they bitch all night
coveting everything
in sight – they’ll even dine
on plastic sacks
of used nappies

but first light brings
a happier brigade
to sing descant
to gull cacophony.
I don’t know the tweeters’
names but they
shall surely inherit the earth
as they are peacemakers
every one…and like Orpheus
they rouse the sun from his
sleep somewhere
one valley over

Then come the troubadours –
a prismatic motley
and given to boistrous
exclamation  –
ribaldry too, judging
by the laughter
and guffaws in their midst.
On a  cheery chilly morning
such as this, I pity
the poor bastards making money
in cities in fealty to the exhaust pipe.
I know why rubber and asphalt
squeal – they’d rather be here
in Poseidon’s Conservatory
where the air is bright with
salt and dappled with songbirds.

.

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