The Gull’s Meal
Published
Topic
Travel
(Leca da Palmeira, Portugal)
A shadow moves across the sand,
shadow of seagull.
He has a broken wing, lands wearily.
Hops slowly along the beach
jagged, off-balance, a live fish squirming in his beak.
The five cats creep out, on low, well-filled bellies
silently stalking
leaving their shelter.
The gull looks round and sees them
unperturbed : his beak sharper than their claws.
But: five against one?
The bird thought better of it
relinquished his prey
flapped to a nearby rock which rose
jutting out of the sea, wave-battered.
The gull, a juvenile, mottled feathers,
kept watch, aloof on his outpost waited,
bided his time, spray-spattered.
Cats slide towards the fish, lying still flapping
inspect, decide: too slippery, maybe too bony
not worth the effort.
Five depart.
Gull swings back to the sand
chuckling to himself
hails the despairing fish:
“You and I were meant for each other, dear”
he screams affectionately.
Fish lies still.
The seagull looks about, gazes towards the horizon
where huge swirling clouds echo
the hugely curling waves
pounding crashing crumbling into foam:
More majestic and magnificent
than a mere meal.