There he floats on top of flat ocean
wrapped in himself.
The gull, to exclusion of everything else
lives in a world
of liquid refreshment then screeching
his own opinion of
what constitutes singing perfection.
Shouldering forward he wings
away filling the air
with his seabird presence, lands sedately
on clifftop seclusion
to embellish a nest and preen his quills
with skillful confidence
before looking for fresh mischief-ways.
Clever that pristine grey-feathered
thief of all things edible
so I warily cover my cheese and bread.
