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        CHASING THE GULLS
Toward the end of March and spring is in the air,
Although the wind was still blowing cold everywhere,
The sky was a pretty blue and the lake was bluer still,
And walking beside the little waves gave me a thrill.

Along the sandy beach stood or sat many a herring gull,
The gentle beating of the waves seemed to quietly lull
Then into a trance or restful sleep on the early spring day,
Until something got into me and I scarred them all away.

The raucous chorus joined with the wind’s loud call,
Their outstretched wings glistening in the sun for all
Those around to see, white feathers sparkling bright,
It was really quite an exciting and wonderful sight.

But I wonder how many folks looked and smiled at me
As I ran arms spread causing such fun and great revery,
I am not a young child taking their dog for a cold swim,
But a young at heart granny wearing a rather silly grin.

(Millicent) Ann Margetson 22 March 2004