The Last Tremolo Cry

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While it was foggy along the shoreline
The loon call I did hear
I called out and it answered me

The seagulls gossiped as they heard
They knew it was me as they floated near
They knew not the loons and I are old friends

As the clouds turned dark and drew near
They humored me as I mimicked their voices
Delighted to be heard and understood

Not a rain goes by they don’t come around
I standing on the shoreline wait for them
As their voices echo inside my memories

Seeing them dive deep and resurface
As the paddle of my kayak dripped dry
Waiting for their next warning

“Take cover, rain is coming!
Gather your young and drink,”
For He has sent forth to feed His flock

A soft mist upon my face begins
I heed it not
Until I hear the last tremolo cry.

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