in full possession of their weight

I saw a sheet of seagulls suddenly
flap and lift with a loud clap and up
into the pain of flying, cry and croup
and crowd the light as if in rivalry
to peck the moon-bone empty
and fall all anyhow with arms spread out
and feet stretched forwards to the earth again.
They stood there like a flock of sleeping men
with heads tucked in, surrendering to the night.
whose forms  from shoulder height
sank like a feather falls, not quite
in full possession of their weight.


from 'Dart' by Alice Oswald