Autumn Sky Poetry . . . Number 9 . . .
 

The Gull

     by Pattie Seely



It was sudden

to come upon her

that way—


the usual way

Life interrupts Herself

and seems to take


neither joy nor sorrow

in such suspension,

only quiet indifference


to our desires. I was

walking the boardwalk

along Lake Ontario


the waters steely

on a January day

of pearl clouds.


The planks creaked cold

beneath my weight

with a dry crunch


from a dusting of snow.

Then I saw her.

At first I hoped for rubbish


something tossed

thoughtlessly

over the sands where


an old north wind

would have laid it

against the snow fence.


But then I knew

when I saw

white feathers lifted


in the tendrils

of an inconspicuous

wind. So I


found my way

through the maze

of weathered, winter fences


and there she laid

silently

with her head looking


backward toward the deep

and dark waters and

tucked beneath her wing.


Overhead

a kettle of gulls swirled low

white under gray


and soon fell

into the Great Lake

like a long string of pearls.










© 2008 Pattie Seely

Pattie Seely lives and writes in the old sand basin of Lake Ontario outside Rochester. Her stories, essays, and poetry have appeared or are forthcoming in journals including Orion Magazine, Amelia Magazine, Buffalo Spree, Acorn, 971 MENU, and Dark Sky Magazine.