The Air Was All

A seagull flying high into
the gray and gloomy sky.
Feathered wings awash
with patterned mist.
Movement was its exclamation.
Crying out it had the right to be.
Gliding through the waves
of all of man's disparity.
The air was all.
Upholding even ardent poetry...

? Michaelette ?

3/19/2005
Copyright© 2005 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .