against the black mountain

beneath the clouded skies

above the leafless trees

beyond the dull roar

of the swollen gray river

the white bird turns

in relief

I turn

and wend my way homeward.

Posted in Poetry and tagged .


  1. Commenting on my own poem. I went for a walk along the river on a gray day. I saw one seagull flying just above the treeline, white and pure in stark contrast to the muted gray and brown and murky green of the day. It was a relief to me to see such beauty, and to realize that the context of the grayness made it stand out all the more. So the duplicity of the one bird standing in relief to the environment, and the moment of seeing the bird standing in relief to my melancholy, occurred to me as a perfect duplicity as the turning point in the poem.

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