grey-white feathered flotilla,
a floating mass on the California lagoon.
Their feeding ballet
in graceful unison dips
scoop-beaks of krill and fish.
The salty water rejected,
squirming masses slither
down the collective gullets.
Then, as one, they take flight.
Seven-foot wingspans
soar on the air cushion
three feet above the surface.
Like silent spirits the flock departs...
to return once more
at a time of their choosing.