trans-atlantic

in the shimmering sun, over the waves, a seagull is reflected. the seagull watches its reflection on the ocean and a memory of skipping cascabeles jolts it out of its serene trajectory. a pebble skims over the surface barely touching. sand shifts under the weightlessness of magic footsteps. the sun blushes at the sight of the horizon, always welcoming. a knock on a door goes unheeded. a cow wanders into a lonely kitchen, still reminiscing of the scent of fresh baked cake. in the pine trees, on the coastline, oven birds find a bit of string or two, to add to the growing nest, children needs must. and the frogs, ancient troubadours of seashores, sleepily lull my dreams away.