I spotted a gull flying over the bay
not more than a foot ‘tween her wings and the waves,
with feathers unfurled, flap and flail as she try,
she hadn’t the strength left to climb toward the sky.
I spotted a gull flying over the trees,
unable to fight the northwesterly breeze,
he tottered while gliding, unsure of his route,
completely resigned now to be blown about.
I spotted a gull in the jaws of a shark,
his hollow bones breaking, with blood running dark.
His face was of shock now, amid razor teeth;
how could he have known what was lurking beneath?
I spotted a gull on a rock, old and frail,
her beak nestled close to protect from the gale,
alone on a cliff ringed by thundering sea.
I wondered what plans fate was making for me.
