With The Wind

Seagulls blown across a rainbow 
bright against the blackened clouds
bright against an angry sky
tug the boats at their mourings
churn the hapless seas
shift the sands
dislodge the bins
and tumble the beach huts

Wrapped in his coat and scarf 
an old man turns his face away to avoid its bite
then leans into it
struggling up the hill 
it trys to steal his shopping bag 

TV aerials regret their positions 
street lights nod
trees wave their branches
as it sings through cables slung between poles 
cables swinging wildly 
cables howling 
howling with the wind

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