“Wayward Seagulls”

So many times I have found,

Seagulls, way out of the area one would expect them,

They were, when I was young,

Only near the ocean and beach,

Breathing salt air, so good for the lungs.

But as I get older,

They seem to be found,

Much further west than the ocean,

Populating lands as far away,

As states around the Mississippi river, are they.

Hard to understand,

How they got that far from home,

They fly on the current of the winds,

Swoop and soar, doing backspins,

And turns that are near hairpin.

These wonderful birds, so well described,

By Richard Bach in Jonathon L. Seagull,

Are by far the most frequent visitor’s,

Of my home at the beach,

Where nary a predator is within their reach.

To some the seagull may just be a flying rat,

But to those of us that observe,

Their flying antics, we find more to love than that,

One never sees a baby gull,

But wintertime gulls are vastly larger,

Than those summertime residents of our shore.

But to recall that which I first wrote in this poem,

Seagulls surely do need to start to use a system such as GPS,

Or at the very least maps and charts can get them home,

Where they belong and are happy,

Where they are not to anymore roam…

                                                        (ed)