At Home with the Sun
I walk to the end of the pier
to await the sun.
Those who make their living here
have begun to work.
They ready the boats
to seek the day's
catch.
A gull crowds me as it flies by,
as if to say,"
You don't belong here."
I look across the water
and see a glow on the horizon.
As the sky turns gold,
I feel right at home.
The prompt for Day 5 of the November PAD Chapbook Challenge is private.
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