"Gulls Have Come Again."
Gulls have come again to consider
another beautiful death of the sun.
People were flowers that grew by the shore.
Twilight takes them home.
They fade together at their tables.
In the tall green shops, the pleas of birds
lower the last light.
The eyelid of a shadow shuts the hills.
The sound of the ocean walks over the land.
Nobody wants to die.