THE SEAGULL
On a secluded beach
There’s a lone white seagull
Standing guard
On a sandbar.
The flock is a thousand yards away
Or a thousand miles to his
Lonely heart.
They flit and fly
And he might cry
Though I’d never know,
For I think
He’s scared to go.
I go to feed him
But he comes to me.
He seldom does that.
He’d fly and pick the bone
Out of the sky.
Even when the tide comes,
The seagull still stands guard.
The water dances about his feet
And he doesn’t budge.
It’s his space.
No one dares come close.
Except an egret.
Only an egret
Can scare a seagull
Out of his home.
I should know.
I’ve seen it.
1 comment:
Unfortunately, most 'zines and the like won't accept work that's been previously published (and they tend to consider posting to a blog to be published). I would have submitted this one to POETRY. :) Ever thought of trying to put together a chapbook? http://www.yellowjacketpress.org/
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