Gulls, cackle and flit, caught
in a frantic game of french fry tag,
soaring and searching for a place
to light, a fight to the finish in a
series of wind swept bobs and
impossible weaves. The crumbling
stone barrier offers resistance against
the slap of Erie’s mighty hand,
sending spray cascading in a veiled mist
and calling attention to her power.
A beacon bright and pulsing,
breaks the early evening shadow
and illuminates the waterway in sporadic
spirals of searing light. In the distance,
the glow of a dying sun, masked in dusk
and sky blue pink wisps of vaporous clouds,
reaches above the break-wall. Sunset Bay
bathed in the lake’s greatness,
possesses a beauty all its own.



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