They Cry (The song of the urban seagull)

This just came to me watching black-headed gulls from my 5th story parisian window. As someone who has always wandered, I had immense empathy for these birds so far from home and yet are at home here.

They cry

As silken fans stretched taut on bony quills snap shut

To guide hairpin deviations 

Of screeching soot-smudged missiles.

They cry

As downy scythes slice clean through the leaden heavens

Targeting scarlet stained stilettos

Through ever-tightening arcs.

The life marine, long since bred out.

Seas of tarmac their sustenance now.

Cliffs of concrete now their watchtowers and nurseries.

Yet, in Old Himes's tears

Some saline memory crystallises.

Hence they cry.

They cry and tumble and dive and soar.

An eulogy to grandsires past

On far Atlantic shore.

Reviews

[Alistair (Ali)]

Wonderful stuff!

"The life marine...."...superb!

We shall bird again!