Kari Wergeland
January 2014

We press on, firing furtive glances
at the sneaky walking of the gull
determined to drop it, make use
of the foundationless to kill his prey—
the blue-black mussel that plummets
from air to pavement, maybe
three times, before it cracks
open to reveal its yellowish spoils.

Then we watch his stubborn take-off
into the sky which reaches out
and holds him firmly and which,
as though with tender hands,
tethers his wings to one place.
There, practically motionless and calm,
there defying the laws of gravity
and casually triumphant, he faces the wind.

©2009-2018 Labletter LLC. All rights for individual pieces reserved by contributing writers and artists.