seagull weather

Today

is a good day
for the seagulls.
Hat, coat, gloves, scarf;
rough fingers snag on wool.
Cold, smooth buttons.

The sky is fractured:
twelve panes of fragile, milky glass.
Etched fingertips that fade,
reappear,
developing slowly, as I breathe.

Today is a good day for the seagulls.
Unconfined
by frames and panes of glass,
they fall,
and soar: now hovering motionless;
now spiralling
high.

The wind: a whisper,
then a roar, tugs at my skirt and coat,
whirling me along the cobbled streets
and leaving me breathless.
Sunlight splinters on the waves;
the sky dances.
Today

is a good day.