Gulls

By John I. Blair

In rainy weather
There, in the river valley,
A low spot keeps a skin of water;
And on occasion
Gulls cluster in the center,
White icing on a silver mirror.

Given feral dogs and foxes
In the nearby wood,
The gulls show good sense,
Or at least apt adaptation
To what the situation requires.

And if they startle, what a sight!
Into the light of the morning sun
An upswirling cloud,
A blizzard in reverse,
A dizzying vortex
Of beaks and wings and feet,
A dazzling demonstration
Of the wonder that transpires
When air and feathers meet.

©2003 John I. Blair