I lamented with the seagull as
eight pinecones and four shells–
a decadent lunch–was crushed
after she went hopping
from a parking spot just in time.

Never emerged–that woman from Michigan
from the enemy car that drove off.
The seagull, with tilted head flapped out her wings with a
full protest.
The driver’s eyes never
came to rest
on what she left behind.

Today’s poem inspired by: