Coyote Mercury

words, birds and whatever else by James Brush

Galveston, Last Summer

Early Sunday morning,
we sat on the seawall

watching a laughing gull
eat a fish. There wasn’t

much happening, just the
gulf falling and rising

with the sea’s slow breathing
between hurricanes,

porpoises jumping over
waves, pelicans floating

above the shore and that
gull working on his fish

while glancing upward at
a sky filled with thieves.

5 Comments

  1. I know I’ve mentioned it before, but I am always struck by them imagery that your poetry evokes. I can also feel the pulse of the water and everything in it.

  2. Rich in images, James, and I love the line: “the seas slow breathing
    between hurricanes”!

  3. I could hear the waves breathing, and the entirety of the poem was wonderful.

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