Herring Gulls
A POEM
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.
You May Also Enjoy
To Angela, Who Is Afraid of Clowns
Clowns are grandfathers
painted with strokes of laughter
who kiss lollipops
but never lick them.
…
The Soaring Birds of Freedom
The soaring birds of freedom
Fall to the earth in yellow streams of fire,
Igniting…