The Seagull

the lonely seagull fights against the wind.
below her angry waters churn and foam
wings flap in place, she struggles, as if pinned
born of the air, she yearns to soar, to roam
no, she will not back down against the storm
she rides the gusts, white wings against dark skies
maintaining, all the while, a perfect form
she flies above the spray, alone, she flies