The screaming gull.

In the early hours of darkness as the sun slowly ascended the gulls were screaming. Distant echoed warnings piercing the silence. Muted grey clouds licked the horizon hinted promises of humidity howled in the constant cries as they searched for scraps of left over food and dry land to rest that tired wings. Orange hues disperse the melancholic grey as sparrows sing and blue tits play. The haunting cries of gull a dying whisper as morning breaks. Climbing back into bed, nature’s symphony becomes the back drop of my dreams.
Karen Hayward ©2016

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