the conversation of the seagulls echoes
across the river, over rooftops,
like punctuation, interjections in the sky.
in winter the seagulls take their forums to the lake
and flock indignantly on shifting ice,
their disapprovals a staccato,
sea sounds juxtaposed with falling snow.
they bicker in alleyways,
arguments skirling through the air,
but their words are lost,
opinions dissolving into city haze.