Between the under and the upper blue
All day the seagulls climb and swerve and soar
Arc intersecting arc, curve over curve.
And you may watch them weaving a long time
And you never see their pattern twice the same
And you never see their pattern once imperfect.
Take any moment the are in the air-
If you could change them, if you had a power
How would you place them other than they are.
What we have labored all our lives to have
And failed, these birds effortlessly achieve:
Freedom that flows in form and still is free.