Rush Hour Poem by Seamus O' Brian

Slowly the silent gulls glide by
Weaving their lazy, evening course
In endless, undulating lines
Toward the peace of darkening shores.

Below the frantic pace of day
Gives way to darkness' peaceful weight.
Their windows shutter like closing eyes,
The merchants stretch with weary sighs.

The toil of day, the raucous play,
All submit to evening shrouds
As man to home attempts his way
And bird on wing ascends the clouds.

Weary commuters with final rush
Push home in crowded highway lines
As westward glows a golden blush
On silent gulls from sky to sky.