RAUCOUS CAWING
by Robin Shwedo
©: Robin Shwedo, 1995
The raucous cawing of sea gulls
as they dive and swoop through the cold air
resounds, rebounds off the walls of nearby stores,
half-echoing.
The sounds bouncing back
are covered half the time by the
continuous cries of the gulls
as they chase one another
away from scraps of food
left for various reasons
on the ground.
The air is crisp, cold,
and carries the sound
unmuffled,
so that it feels as
crackly as small shards of icicles,
broken off and crunched.
The grey and white birds
screech and scream
over the dredges of someone’s leftovers,
picking,
plucking,
swooping down to
grab small pieces of breakfast
while the sun glints and glitters
off nearby panes of glass,
from which sound bounces,
tossing back the raucous cawing of the gulls.
I wrote this while watching sea gulls diving around a dumpster in a parking log. It's part of my book Revolutionary Broads and Other Nightmares, which is looking for a publishing home.
Showing posts with label RAUCOUS CAWING. Show all posts
Showing posts with label RAUCOUS CAWING. Show all posts
Friday, February 18, 2022
Friday, April 9, 2021
RAUCOUS CAWING
RAUCOUS CAWING
by Robin Shwedo
©: Robin Shwedo, 1995
The raucous cawing of sea gulls
as they dive and swoop through the cold air
resounds, rebounds off the walls of nearby stores,
half-echoing.
The sounds bouncing back
are covered half the time by the
continuous cries of the gulls
as they chase one another
away from scraps of food
left for various reasons
on the ground.
The air is crisp, cold,
and carries the sound
unmuffled,
so that it feels as
crackly as small shards of icicles,
broken off and crunched.
The grey and white birds
screech and scream
over the dredges of someone’s leftovers,
picking,
plucking,
swooping down to
grab small pieces of breakfast
while the sun glints and glitters
off nearby panes of glass,
from which sound bounces,
tossing back the raucous cawing of the gulls.
I wrote this while watching sea gulls diving around a dumpster in a parking log. It's part of my book Revolutionary Broads and Other Nightmares, which is looking for a publishing home.
by Robin Shwedo
©: Robin Shwedo, 1995
The raucous cawing of sea gulls
as they dive and swoop through the cold air
resounds, rebounds off the walls of nearby stores,
half-echoing.
The sounds bouncing back
are covered half the time by the
continuous cries of the gulls
as they chase one another
away from scraps of food
left for various reasons
on the ground.
The air is crisp, cold,
and carries the sound
unmuffled,
so that it feels as
crackly as small shards of icicles,
broken off and crunched.
The grey and white birds
screech and scream
over the dredges of someone’s leftovers,
picking,
plucking,
swooping down to
grab small pieces of breakfast
while the sun glints and glitters
off nearby panes of glass,
from which sound bounces,
tossing back the raucous cawing of the gulls.
I wrote this while watching sea gulls diving around a dumpster in a parking log. It's part of my book Revolutionary Broads and Other Nightmares, which is looking for a publishing home.
Thursday, May 14, 2020
RAUCOUS CAWING
RAUCOUS CAWING
by Robin Shwedo
©: Robin Shwedo, 1995
The raucous cawing of sea gulls
as they dive and swoop through the cold air
resounds, rebounds off the walls of nearby stores,
half-echoing.
The sounds bouncing back
are covered half the time by the
continuous cries of the gulls
as they chase one another
away from scraps of food
left for various reasons
on the ground.
The air is crisp, cold,
and carries the sound
unmuffled,
so that it feels as
crackly as small shards of icicles,
broken off and crunched.
The grey and white birds
screech and scream
over the dredges of someone’s leftovers,
picking,
plucking,
swooping down to
grab small pieces of breakfast
while the sun glints and glitters
off nearby panes of glass,
from which sound bounces,
tossing back the raucous cawing of the gulls.
I wrote this while watching sea gulls diving around a dumpster in a parking log. It's part of my book Revolutionary Broads and Other Nightmares, which is looking for a publishing home.
by Robin Shwedo
©: Robin Shwedo, 1995
The raucous cawing of sea gulls
as they dive and swoop through the cold air
resounds, rebounds off the walls of nearby stores,
half-echoing.
The sounds bouncing back
are covered half the time by the
continuous cries of the gulls
as they chase one another
away from scraps of food
left for various reasons
on the ground.
The air is crisp, cold,
and carries the sound
unmuffled,
so that it feels as
crackly as small shards of icicles,
broken off and crunched.
The grey and white birds
screech and scream
over the dredges of someone’s leftovers,
picking,
plucking,
swooping down to
grab small pieces of breakfast
while the sun glints and glitters
off nearby panes of glass,
from which sound bounces,
tossing back the raucous cawing of the gulls.
I wrote this while watching sea gulls diving around a dumpster in a parking log. It's part of my book Revolutionary Broads and Other Nightmares, which is looking for a publishing home.
Thursday, October 4, 2018
RAUCOUS CAWING
RAUCOUS CAWING
by Robin Shwedo
©: Robin Shwedo, 1995
The raucous cawing of sea gulls
as they dive and swoop through the cold air
resounds, rebounds off the walls of nearby stores,
half-echoing.
The sounds bouncing back
are covered half the time by the
continuous cries of the gulls
as they chase one another
away from scraps of food
left for various reasons
on the ground.
The air is crisp, cold,
and carries the sound
unmuffled,
so that it feels as
crackly as small shards of icicles,
broken off and crunched.
The grey and white birds
screech and scream
over the dredges of someone’s leftovers,
picking,
plucking,
swooping down to
grab small pieces of breakfast
while the sun glints and glitters
off nearby panes of glass,
from which sound bounces,
tossing back the raucous cawing of the gulls.
I wrote this while watching sea gulls diving around a dumpster in a parking log. It's part of my book Revolutionary Broads and Other Nightmares, which is looking for a publishing home.
by Robin Shwedo
©: Robin Shwedo, 1995
The raucous cawing of sea gulls
as they dive and swoop through the cold air
resounds, rebounds off the walls of nearby stores,
half-echoing.
The sounds bouncing back
are covered half the time by the
continuous cries of the gulls
as they chase one another
away from scraps of food
left for various reasons
on the ground.
The air is crisp, cold,
and carries the sound
unmuffled,
so that it feels as
crackly as small shards of icicles,
broken off and crunched.
The grey and white birds
screech and scream
over the dredges of someone’s leftovers,
picking,
plucking,
swooping down to
grab small pieces of breakfast
while the sun glints and glitters
off nearby panes of glass,
from which sound bounces,
tossing back the raucous cawing of the gulls.
I wrote this while watching sea gulls diving around a dumpster in a parking log. It's part of my book Revolutionary Broads and Other Nightmares, which is looking for a publishing home.
Wednesday, February 15, 2017
Raucous Cawing
RAUCOUS CAWING
by Robin Shwedo
©: Robin Shwedo, 1995
The raucous cawing of sea gulls
as they dive and swoop through the cold air
resounds, rebounds off the walls of nearby stores,
half-echoing.
The sounds bouncing back
are covered half the time by the
continuous cries of the gulls
as they chase one another
away from scraps of food
left for various reasons
on the ground.
The air is crisp, cold,
and carries the sound
unmuffled,
so that it feels as
crackly as small shards of icicles,
broken off and crunched.
The grey and white birds
screech and scream
over the dredges of someone’s leftovers,
picking,
plucking,
swooping down to
grab small pieces of breakfast
while the sun glints and glitters
off nearby panes of glass,
from which sound bounces,
tossing back the raucous cawing of the gulls.
I wrote this while watching sea gulls diving around a dumpster in a parking log. It's part of my book Revolutionary Broads and Other Nightmares, which is looking for a publishing home.
by Robin Shwedo
©: Robin Shwedo, 1995
The raucous cawing of sea gulls
as they dive and swoop through the cold air
resounds, rebounds off the walls of nearby stores,
half-echoing.
The sounds bouncing back
are covered half the time by the
continuous cries of the gulls
as they chase one another
away from scraps of food
left for various reasons
on the ground.
The air is crisp, cold,
and carries the sound
unmuffled,
so that it feels as
crackly as small shards of icicles,
broken off and crunched.
The grey and white birds
screech and scream
over the dredges of someone’s leftovers,
picking,
plucking,
swooping down to
grab small pieces of breakfast
while the sun glints and glitters
off nearby panes of glass,
from which sound bounces,
tossing back the raucous cawing of the gulls.
I wrote this while watching sea gulls diving around a dumpster in a parking log. It's part of my book Revolutionary Broads and Other Nightmares, which is looking for a publishing home.
Monday, October 24, 2016
RAUCOUS CAWING
RAUCOUS CAWING
by Robin Shwedo
©: Robin Shwedo, 1995
The raucous cawing of sea gulls
as they dive and swoop through the cold air
resounds, rebounds off the walls of nearby stores,
half-echoing.
The sounds bouncing back
are covered half the time by the
continuous cries of the gulls
as they chase one another
away from scraps of food
left for various reasons
on the ground.
The air is crisp, cold,
and carries the sound
unmuffled,
so that it feels as
crackly as small shards of icicles,
broken off and crunched.
The grey and white birds
screech and scream
over the dredges of someone’s leftovers,
picking,
plucking,
swooping down to
grab small pieces of breakfast
while the sun glints and glitters
off nearby panes of glass,
from which sound bounces,
tossing back the raucous cawing of the gulls.
I wrote this while watching sea gulls diving around a dumpster in a parking log. It's part of my book Revolutionary Broads and Other Nightmares, which is looking for a publishing home.
by Robin Shwedo
©: Robin Shwedo, 1995
The raucous cawing of sea gulls
as they dive and swoop through the cold air
resounds, rebounds off the walls of nearby stores,
half-echoing.
The sounds bouncing back
are covered half the time by the
continuous cries of the gulls
as they chase one another
away from scraps of food
left for various reasons
on the ground.
The air is crisp, cold,
and carries the sound
unmuffled,
so that it feels as
crackly as small shards of icicles,
broken off and crunched.
The grey and white birds
screech and scream
over the dredges of someone’s leftovers,
picking,
plucking,
swooping down to
grab small pieces of breakfast
while the sun glints and glitters
off nearby panes of glass,
from which sound bounces,
tossing back the raucous cawing of the gulls.
I wrote this while watching sea gulls diving around a dumpster in a parking log. It's part of my book Revolutionary Broads and Other Nightmares, which is looking for a publishing home.
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