The Seagulls Commute

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.