Email Poem

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Poem

I commute down the highway quite early each morn:
South toward the seashore, days work to be done.
Half way to the ocean, traveling north through the sky;
A large flock of sea gulls, passes me by.

They too have their work load cut out for the day:
At the nearest large land-fill, on their ravenous way.
Traveling ever far inland away from the sea:
They will spend the day scouring town dumps for debris.

The hours pass slowly: comes the end of my day,
I drive the same highway to a home far away.
I see in the distance flying back to the shore;
The same flock of seagulls, but hungry no more.

I can never help smile when I meet them again,
These feathered shoplifters, heading where I have been.
Life's very well ordered for these ‘foul’ of the sea,
Who each day earn a living, stealing smelly debris.

Dusk finds them at shore line with short, squawk filled flights,
They will then disappear to where gulls go at night.
And with a new morning; I will greet them once more:
On their way to those landfills, from their home at the shore.

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