The Seagull

 

 

This morning an angel

suddenly swooped down

in front of my car

 

soaring smoothly on silent wings

and a prayer

and the wind, flowing

beneath the milk-white feathers of its breast.

 

Looming large before me,

It held my eye

with its quiet eye,

like the center of a storm.

 

For a moment in time

we flew on together,

then up and away, it rose

beyond my view,

 

and ever since,

I have been flying,

uplifted, somehow held,

within the shadow of those wings.