Young Gulls at the Dump

Though sparrow brown
and streaked with mud,
these birds are gulls,
and with gulls are lumped.
Their raucous cries
disparage sleep
on mornings out-of-town.

But, if you love them,
leave them along.
Their wings are too long
to cramp in a poem.
And one day, too,
you know they’ll fly
radiant in the sun.