The Seagull

The seagull swoops and settles
On the shadow of a breeze,
Above the currents churning, 
Just as cocky as you please.

With beady eyes and golden beak,
He scopes the sea below
In search of something he can snatch
As he flies to and fro.

With wings a’flap, he rises up,
Just coasting through the air;
Of pets and people on the ground,
He seems quite unaware.

His home is on the water
And his sustenance, the sea.
He has no use for land and that
Includes the likes of me.

And yet, he loops and lunges
With an audience to note
And a mention by a poet
In a poem that she wrote.