Ritual
When gulls swirl like dark leaves across the sky,
their wings sing to air, often stop
and come to rest upon the air. An
invisible bond threads itself between
them. The pigeon struts across the sand.
It is unaware of its movements, unaware
that the iridescent feathers of its neck
reflect the wet sand. It puffs its breast, knows
only the ritual of its dance.
Copyright ©Velene Campbell 2004. All rights reserved.
