(an oldie, from my first days in Vancouver)

5:00 am on Tuesday morn
Greyish molecules scatter
Patching holes in the night sky torn
Obliterating any trace of the latter

Gulls grace the ground in formation
Sounding off a common gripe
Winged scavengers at coronation
Rising early when the picking is ripe

Am I the silent observer
Breaking the rules am I awake
Clouds shifting a careful maneuver
Hearing the silence waver and break

Lasting a mere contemplation
The seaflock no longer discreet
The rustle of warehouses impatient
For the welcome working manís feet

© 1982 M. Winkler