Flock of Seagulls

In my early morning I hear a flock of seagulls chirping near out loud as they fly around and around in endless circles over my head. A large and intimidating circle of birds. They dance, dancing away to honor the bright sun and the barely awaken earth. They head down to the floor in a pretty uniform line heading towards the seed I'd laid for them and again they fly high over the blue/purple morning sky. Their dance is the dance of the sun_ Up. Down. There they go! With their long wide wings spread out wide they seem to touch the sky as they sing like sopranos and tenors with a new made up song for us, for you and I. Then away they go, to hide between the gray clouds. Few seagulls remains behind chirping out loud. Is getting late. Time to fully awake. There's no rest for the weary! No. Like an old blues say "There's no rest for the weary just another day grinding up stones till they turn into dust, it's tough, dimes in the rough. Diamonds ain't enough"... "So keep marching 'til your feet split open". We all most go on living, working, and struggling. And I must go on dreaming, while the river cries, or sing, while the moon is gone and the sun shines which is what it does best, so it seems, while the docks take a bath, in the lake near my yard, while I kiss you good bye, while I get in my car and kiss the winds, and the rose in my hair, and the cross on my neck. while you and I part ways. While I being to wonder why it started to rain in my eyes as the birds fly high...