A seagull dive-bombs;

robs the cheese bun

from my hand.

I stand back

as it soars

on the airwaves –

the bird-laughter’s

screeches,

born on the breeze,

as he gathers his feathers,

holds on to his prize,

in a bright yellow beak.

 

 

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.