Each Wing Alive
Gulls roost in downdraft float
And updraft boomerang
And coast, wheel, and hang
Above the harbor, circling over boat
And passersby. They loop
Back through skyline, and glide
Thermal, each wing alive
To wind’s inflections, in swoop
And swoon. They seem to race
Yet scamper and careen
Above the day’s routine
That craves unscheduled grace.
Posted 03/16/14
from Wildfire, Candleflame (Rose Alley Press, 2005)