Along an Irish Coast

Sea meets stone on a late March day along Ireland’s southwest coast.

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Is It All Workaday to Them?

Now I’m near the sea
And the wonder of seagulls.

As yet, they’re all one to me,
Copies carried on the wind
Above the quay.

I don’t know any of them
Individually.

Is it all workaday to them,
The soaring they do
On those snazzy wings,
The fantastical moments
Fixed on a breeze over
A patch of water
That might be hiding
A meal?

Or do they, as I hope,
Also take to the air
Just to be up there,
Inheritors of a
Marvelous gift?