frolic

Out the side of my eye

            I caught the high swing

            Of common seagulls

            Over Frobisher roofs

            South of San Jose,

            Merged into a mingle

            That turned to maybe hundreds,

            Loose,   aimless,   a chaos

            For its own delight

            That quickly became a sheer joy of flight,

            A winged camaraderie;

            “slipping the surly bonds of earth”