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Jan 2016
Icy dock
bump and knock
one gull huddles
on a cold black rock

frozen feet
driving sleet
tethered by the weather
like the landed fleet

gull spreads wings
north wind sings
rumble and a mumble
as the pub door swings

step inside
drink is tried
filling up and spilling
like the storm-surge tide

howl and din
locks you in
ice goes slicing
through your winter skin

knock them down
drink and drown
bleezin empty season
in a seaside town
Alan McClure
Written by
Alan McClure
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