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Seagulls soar high above the flapping sound of wind. They fly bright-white through sunlight wedged beneath dark clouds that are heavily shaded by taller cloud brothers enjoying the cleansing feel of sunlight in their wispy wet hair. The seagulls play in the strong wind like unstrung kites in a gusty breeze – they bounce and jive and soar off beyond ground-vision. What really catches my eye is the brightness of the seagull’s feathers beneath the slate colored clouds that seem to save their rain-drops for a storm. There aren’t that many gulls - 2 or 3 but they own that space in the sky. Their soaring must be more freeing to them than the scheduled food that is offered below at the residence for the aging. They often beg for food at that place, standing on the ridge of its roof but right now they are flying free from the earth’s pull, forever in this moment and needing nothing
