The Seagull Poem by Angela Wybrow

I see your familiar figure; I hear your raucous cry,
As you catch warm currents of air, way up on high;
You decided to turn tail, and head many miles inland,
Leaving behind shimmering seas, and soft, silken sands.

On a hot summer's day, I yearn to be down by the coast:
Down by the water's edge, is where I love to be the most;
Given the choice of being land-locked or down by the sea,
I wouldn't have a single doubt where I would rather be.

As you fly onwards, you are cooled by the summer breeze;
You travel over hills and dales, and woodlands, full of trees.
I cannot comprehend why you have left your heavenly home:
Why, over unfamiliar territory, you've now decided to roam.

Why journey so far inland, to search for some man-made dish,
When, way out at sea, you can forever feast on tasty, fresh fish?
Your chaotic chorus of calls is such welcome music to my ears:
I recall my visits to the sea, and those memories bring me cheer.

You, and your kind, circle slowly, cruising around and around;
Your lean, dark shadows fleetingly caress the hot, baking ground.
On such a lovely, summer's day, like today, do you all really rate
The joyful and jolly seaside below some sprawling council estate?

Upon your two white fairy-like wings, the glorious sun glints:
The bright sun shines upon you, giving your wings a silvery tint.
Sometimes, late into the evening, as the darkness slowly falls,
I see your flock flying eastwards, and I hear your farewell calls.

I suspect you're flying seawards, leaving locked land way behind.
I wonder if, by being born by the sea, to its beauty, you are blind.
I feel so sad to see you all departing; I feel so sad to see you go,
But chances are that you will all be back for tea again tomorrow.