Seagulls soar in winter sun
Capturing with wings of gold
Where’s she been? Where’s he going?
Who knows their exact route?
As I watch them in their twinning
Parking lot again? Pot luck?
No problem no need to rush.
This day has pure joy in its beginning
Hope is clear and pleasure so crisp
Why don’t they migrate for the winter?
I forget answers not easily remembered
What message is on the wing
Wings of both glory and grace
Look up they seem to call
Their power to warm, though, is lacking
In cold skies both cruel and blue
Remembering with unbridled joy