I sit on the beach
And watch the seagulls
Hover over those with food.
They seek a convenient solution
To their hunger.
Satisfaction is hard work.
But, wouldn’t a fish
Be a more noble prize?
And yet, they are content
To settle.
A tossed piece of bread,
A stale potato chip, a bit of apple.
It would seem that the time
They spend waiting upon
The generosity of a species not their own,
Would be better spent
With wings spread over the sea.
Their dignity, if not their food supply
Would be better served.
Ah! There is one!
One lone gull flying over
The surface of the water
In search of a fish.
I cannot hold back my smile.
Back and forth, back and forth,
Tirelessly scanning from above.
He is relentless.
I say a silent prayer.
That the sea shall be generous.
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