Shadowed against the bright September sun
I turn and look up, squinting to see
Speckled black and gold wings
Iridescent green-blue shimmering
I make an offering, the crumbs
Collected at the bottom of my paper bag
Light pink pastry and shiny icing
Two and then four join at my feet
Picking along the rough hewn concrete
The jealous seagull throws back its head
Cawing toward the mountainous waves
That roll in from the brown North Sea
