The Gull
It was sudden
to come upon her
that way—
the usual way
Life interrupts Herself
and seems to take
neither joy nor sorrow
in such suspension,
only quiet indifference
to our desires. I was
walking the boardwalk
along Lake Ontario
the waters steely
on a January day
of pearl clouds.
The planks creaked cold
beneath my weight
with a dry crunch
from a dusting of snow.
Then I saw her.
At first I hoped for rubbish
something tossed
thoughtlessly
over the sands where
an old north wind
would have laid it
against the snow fence.
But then I knew
when I saw
white feathers lifted
in the tendrils
of an inconspicuous
wind. So I
found my way
through the maze
of weathered, winter fences
and there she laid
silently
with her head looking
backward toward the deep
and dark waters and
tucked beneath her wing.
Overhead
a kettle of gulls swirled low
white under gray
and soon fell
into the Great Lake
like a long string of pearls.
from Autumn Sky Poetry 9 — by Pattie Seely
Video by Sarah Filmer
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