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)