Pilgrimage

Late August, and inland gulls already assemble in empty parking lots at daybreak. Their numbers increase weekly as the earth rotates toward the coming fall. This convergence of birds turns into a hypnotic spectacle as they swirl overhead, practicing for their long trek south.



Pilgrimage


Would I blaspheme
if I compared an autumn gathering of gulls
to a group bound for mecca?

Churning, turning like a fan
jubilant, orbiting, a pirouette, a shimmy.

White as the sky of dawn,
almost lost as they circle aloft
as if to prepare
for seven times 'round the Kaaba.

Mystical as a group of whirling dervishes
mesmerized with motion
about to start a second-sighted journey.

Standing at the periphery, I ponder why
I cannot soar even as they fly.



Marilyn Aschoff Mellor