Still life eyes sweep the perimeter

for truant gulls.

The man at the end of the jess

wears a migraine red top.

It’s echoed in a rolled up tabloid.

Screaming puns throttled,

it juts from a pocket

like some schoolboy’s hasty homework.

The smart phone is welded to his ear.

The owl makes soft ripples

of wingspan music.

Someone’s on the train somewhere.

Just beyond the top of the square,

Desperate Dan keeps heading West.

Gulls stay off the radar

while the owl plays a nocturne.
*From Seagate III (Discovery Press Ed A.Jackson)