Pale white Gull
Rare and welcome, to our shores a welcome
Pale and delicate like a dove.
Graceful in the air, graceful as she swoops
Blanched plumage fits like a glove.
An Iceland Gull, winters in Iceland
But clean and white strolls the strand.
Against white cliffs, her gentle white gleams
A ghostly shade, gull made from moonbeams.
A laughing note, notes long and staccato
She calls out a name to another albino.
A sighting just off Portland Bill, an Iceland bill so cool
An apparition on the wing, or just an April Fool?
The Iceland Gull, lands on icy land alone
Camouflaged, the colour of bleached limestone.
She waves to the lighthouse, beyond the waves she ascends
And she gone, a glimpse, in Cumulus as she blends.
By Linda Prince
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