Speak in delve tones

A morning routine, faithful.
Stir the coffee to temperature.
Glance out of the window,
Take it all in,
Make it all correct and digestable.

When the tar black is once more still,
Notice the reflection of the gull,
The image then
Of an upside down, skeletal wingspan
As it elopes across the slick.

It captures the eye,
But is gone before
It is fully seen.
But it was noticed,
I noticed that,
Therefore -

This galaxy shifts and pivots
On the sharpness of a concentration,
Wrapped up against
The death of winter.

All is shifting,
Expanding, infinite,
And ready to be
Ignored out of existence.

Here it is again -
The accepted smell of evening.
Toxic whispers,
Paralysing,
Open up the tear ducts.

Are we getting used to this?
Night after night?
I crave the mornings these days -

I give you the same thanks
A doctor gives when
Offered a disease to cure.