Onto the solitary gull Whipped sharply by the storm, Supernal rains fall thinly lit By feverish stray light. She—a fugitive white contour— fluxes unsinkable As a thousand turbulent motes Jettisoned from livid Monuments rolling overhead And dives frenzied beneath the rush. Now she’s proud—she attacks. A moment blinks. History breathes. Now she’s fast—now she’s gone. A childhood memory flashes— A fiery revolt Drawn in her erstwhile path Like lightning—and with the rain falls Tenderly into me.
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