She gull
She Gull
— what ocean birds show us, when we really look —
The white seagull can do
More than glide and squawk
She can
Mid-flight
Wings still expanded
Rattle her torso
Like a barrel rolling to and fro on hinges
Separate to the wings keeping her airborne
Shake her wet, sand-salt-sticky feathers
Dry
Dry, still flying
stays the course
It’s not something you see
Often
I never have…
How? Often Does the busy beach stroller – dog walking – always talking – ever look
Look up,
At one singular gull
Follow her flight
- In the is-ness of that moment, is she flying just for me?
How? Long does the beach stroller – unaware of gull fluffing, so busy Fitbit stuffing – ever look
Look up
At one singular anything
Where the presence of looking is
The doing thing