Lessons from a seagull

 
sun-sequined harbour
shifting with the wind
excessive brightness
turns my gaze upwards,
where a class of studious seagulls
practice Jonathan Livingston’s circles and dives
against a backdrop of baby blue…

…it takes me back
to my grandparents’ house…
Entering into the basement,
(oh, that smell of cool cement floor!)
Up creaky stairs to the kitchen
with its blueberry muffin warmth
and those ugly stained-glass window trinkets
that I made when I was eight, embarrassingly displayed.
Then finally to the favourite love-seat,
where I would curl up,
reach into the magazine rack
(careful honey, that piece comes loose sometimes)
and lose myself in that favourite book,
--such a curious tale of non-conformity
to find in this traditionalist home--
reading it front to back
the first day of each visit,
finding something new
every time.