Volume > Issue > Herring Gulls

Herring Gulls

A POEM

By Oliver Barres | May 1984

They quarrel in low tide mud

Over scraps of rotten food;

They rest on fishhouse roofs.

Retreating from feud.

 

They batter the air in flight,

Shrill-screaming at swifter thieves,

Swooping to carry off

What another leaves.

 

They circle on motionless wings,

Then ride a wind’s long rise,

Disdaining the distant dunes

And greedy cries.

 

Sea hunters again, they join

The endless offal chase —

Rapacious, yet seekers of sky

On wings of grace.

Enjoyed reading this?

READ MORE! REGISTER TODAY

SUBSCRIBE

You May Also Enjoy

The Prodigal Father and His Child

“Well, Father, my share of the farm has

been turned into gold.

I take it…

Befuddled

A slow befuddled winter fly

With 747 abandon

Has trundled from my window sill

And…

Prayer after Communion

Body, flesh and blood, feeling.

I have been here before, kneeling

in the snow, in…