The Great Snap

Six blown spouts among the waves,
chased away by scores of gulls.
Whose jousts for scraps are not without
the feathered clouds of fettered culls.
Though in my hand a quill did fall,
its fate was sealed with half of all.

For to the wind,
the quill did quell
in grains of dust

luft aloft ..

Past the gulls...
above the waves...
where three lone spouts below remain.

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