A sparrow close-range, a dedicated follower, packing a double large elegy of values, love trouble, last blinded by the sea only tonight, this evening of the seals. Two old seals suddenly lifted in a renown wave, the same in each. Humming back, large as the beach staring away in too much sour light. When it slips away there are too many ways around it sung. The wave lips onto Hough’s Neck floor filled with sour for gladness reasons. Often no one you know as seals go mourning the orchard rounds.