They flutter
their wings
so smoothly
to fly across the shores;
and using the open skies
as a haven for a retreat,
to wait for
the

Ode to the Frenchfry:

Behind glass in metal

eating, protected from the street.

throw just one, one broken bit,

one from the

Seagull breaking surface,

Expert fisher of men.

I’ve seen him

Fight the wind.

I’ve watched him squawk

As if

Seagulls on the prairie
always seem ridiculous to me
Why confine themselves to my left over french fries
When they can sail

The Gull

Dawn rose
And he drifted
On glistening wing
A speck of silver
Gainst an azure sky
Lifting my soul
Causing my heart to