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