The seagulls left and were replaced
by the beeping cranes of the renovators.
No more raucous screams at sunup.
No more car spattered with white wash poop.
No more squawks funneling down the bathroom vent.
No more white wings sailing over the roof.
No more clam shells lying open on the deck.
Now the renovators have gone;
but these voices of the sea have not returned.
And we are too far away to hear the surf.
