Seaside ride
Bright metallic clattering. The fair is on the promenade,leaving the beach deserted
apart from a grey gull
that clings to the back of blue deck-chair.
His feet are tight as hands of children
that hold rails on the tilt- a- whirl.
He squawks, leaning forward to watch
the tide rake stones.
Soon, water rocks the chair
but the bird does not fly.
Instead he spreads wings; wobbles.
Eventually a breaker collapses this perch.
As the bird lifts and circles
his heckles blend
with screams of those on the sky wheel.
Mary Charman Smith