Gulls

Baby gulls who cannot walk,

Whose feathers are ungrown,

Hop to tufts of camomile

From lattices of stone.

The wind smoothes where the back dips

Wings of shaded straw;

Blue and coral-banded shells

Stick between each claw.

Tumbling with the grace of seals

From the far spit of land,

They scurry from their own wide beaks

Reflected on the sand.