Where Seagulls Fly

My home lies under a path Where seagulls fly. Standing in my high kitchen window With no shutters, shades or curtains, I see them, White feathers brilliant in the sun As they glide over, Some seemingly on a quest, Some simply enjoying the feeling Of being able to soar. It is no accident that I live here, For we both share the same spirit Of a wild bird, With the same need to feel Air rushing beneath our wings, To be unhindered by Things bound to the Earth, To follow with trust The clear path provided By the Universe That leads us to our destiny, A path only we can see Standing in my high kitchen window, I soar with them.