Seagull (Lake Michigan)

Monarchs and ladies, gaudy death-destined,
have sought out this somnolent place to die,
but not the hardy gull,
the sand for it, too, a respite of some degree
and one of choice from the always emergent,
ever tide-governed sea.

 Beetle and butterfly, dead and sand-covered,
dying and seeking sun in the wind- and sand-sheltered
crevice of bleached debris,
differ from him, duration the difference
and pleasure: gull eats where it stops at leisure from deeps
or from carrion-reeking rock.

 Still we may find one, wing and beak open,
mantled by monarch and necklace of ladybird,
sand crust about the eye;
it neither cares for danger, the others flown,
nor heeds wind's buffet, hopelessly focused,
flesh, horn and feather, on death.

 Diseased of body?  Or heartsick this victim?
Did ever bird challenge tall heaven's unique terrain,
dare piled mass of forests, lakes aqua,
attempt explore the bright nimbus city, but entering
care no more?  Now by self-hatred
exiled to this next-best shore?

 A strangeness repels us, the sea- and sand-quiet;
night's vague introductory calm commends retreat.
We exit pilgrims, aware
of some evensong, some angelus breathed by so stark
and so subtle change: as if gull alone were stern sexton
to the sun's self-consuming flame.