Pacific Gull

After the whale-back surge of shoals roiling
blue pasture, it weaves a cat's cradle of
watchful thought above this river's small stage.
Now the ritual ascent: a silver hook
draws it down, all mathematics done,
to pluck the trinket, the mouthful, fuel for the next hour.
Sunset had bathed its breast in orange-gold
as it shadowed the pier — numinous,
hyperreal; unswayed by the rip of crosswinds —
free-wheeling away with dusky wings
to make your shoulders ache. It lives, like us,
at the mercy of need, at the will of
each moment — but in a completeness,
rowing the abyss with voluptuous case.