At The Low Tide Surf Line

the old greys are

still

a flock

standing

facing

the south wind

yearling gulls

play

overhead

mottled dingy chasing

a young gull

beats

high on a gust

chased by others

it drops a rock dives

gets it again

again

again

the other young gulls

tire of the game

they can't seem

to win

so it beats extra high

veers

divebombs

the standing flock

and the old greys

start

startled a bit

they ruffle their feathers

the young gull

beats back up

rock in its beak

veers off too far

drops its rock

lost

in a flat arc of

spent surf

gunmetal in the

south wind