Seagulls

mikeschultz Sat Feb 04 2012, 17:01

Up close, a gull
full of fish looks lumpy,
but a hungry stream-lined
form is covered in feathers of white, black and mottled gray
with legs of minimalistic design
more suited to a smaller bird—
Mr. Updike calls them “childish
crayon strokes.” But tucked back in flight,
the diminuative nature of the gull’s feet is an asset.
Streamlined to create no drag,
riding an offshore wind they
float just above the swells.

They seem intelligent,
or at the least some of us seem to think so.
Dark eyes stare at the world with a searching gaze
As neatly groomed scavengers haunt courthouse steps
hoping, perhaps someone will come along,
an ear, a client, a payday,
a justification.
Is it freedom, or nature?

Early morning sunrise,
walking the beach in search of the choicest morsels,
all the while a cacophony of squawking
gulls heralds the arrival of another day.
As a silvery sheen laced with sea foam
runs first up the beach and then back to the sea
and there expresses the ebb and flood of human
emotion, we are not unlike the gulls,
scrambling and fussing over nature’s table scraps.

What greater tribute to such a lowly fowl
than the book, sound track and movie, “Jonathon
Livingston Seagull.” For, though raucous
and devoid of toilet manners, they present
a beauty of form and function as they ply
the winds that froth the waves.
On the beach, among the scattering gulls,
two lovers walk, hand in hand,
talking of the news they had heard
announced, “John Updike has passed away.”

Michael Schultz © April 30, 2009 (2013)