When one more chore in the house of work,
Seems so much we've developed a quirk,
Of lethargic feelings holding us back
>From the simplest of duties on track
Then it's time to get a way for a minute
To watch the gulls in their infinite
Habits of life and living,
They survive, no quarter giving.
The placid geese quietly accept
The gulls hustling ways of grabbing
Each morsel thrown, by stabbing
Either in the air or the waters surface,
With quick, expedient, grasping purpose,
One has to appreciate the opportunist.
This frustrates the feeder, who can't get the gist,
Of how to linger a bit to feed the geese,
While this wily gull instead, has the feast.
Toward the middle of the picture,
Can you see the bird endure
Seeming to stand on the water's top,
In no fear of a way to drop
Through the skim of ice?
He's ready and isn't that nice,
To be on call like this, he's not so dumb,
But closely watches for the next crumb.
Yes, we watched the gulls today,
So now, we're more ready to tend our fray.
There must be something to be said,
As we shake our head,
For the way of the gull and his trick
Of working, fast and quick.
After the benefactor with their sacks are gone
Mr. Gull goes back to his place in the sun
Where he is rolled into a ball of so many white drops,
Looking like thoughts of meringue on pie tops.
