Hovering above
the aft balcony
flocks of seabirds
pillage leftovers
from buffets
of excess.
Bobbing in the
cruise ship’s wake,
brown against
the blue-green Aegean,
Greeks fish them out.
Out of hailing distance
out of time,
brown turns to purple
in the setting sun,
leaving a bruise
on the night sea.
Makes me wonder
how bad life
must have been
to risk life and limb,
and into the unknown,
flee.
– M. Zane McClellan
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