Poem text:

Do you ever sit and think,

about a seagull circling an oilrig?

The seafaring bird flies closely to the tip top of the waves,

its small black eyes scouring and scanning,

for any sign of movement,

for any sign of life,

for a single piece of floating and edible trash.

The Gull’s giant white and grey wings flap,

they slap and slide through the wind,

the gull’s starving stomach growls and calls out to it,

as piercing as its beak’s call might be to a human.

The seagull’s heart skips a beat

its stomach starts to warm,

as a familiar figure walks and skips up and down a beach.

The other day the same figure cast a fishing line from a boat,

several days former a chorus of noises and movements

had caused a similar emotion from a ship.

The sea bird hovers ever closer now,

for nature’s lesson,

has never been taught this easily before.

The sea bird’s piercing call comes,

it is met by a stray fry,

a chunk of an unfinished cheese burger,

half a slice of an onion,

slightly gnawed on,

many more delicacies on their way to quiet its stomach.

The seagull knows not what it does,

the humans know not what they do,

the seagull’s stomach is quieted,

the human’s spirits are uplifted,

both of their hearts are warmed.

The seagull cannot find any fish,

the humans have caught most of the fish,

the seagull has found a human,

and humans never seem to run out of French fries.