- Jon Moore
Shrieks fill the air
Sun cooks my hair
Parked at water’s edge
By the lagoon that won’t be dredged
Only two gulls
Over there on Stinson
Both walk and talk
In the quiet, it’s quite winsome
Fishing folk dot the beach
Early birders get the worm
Toss the bait, throw it straight
Taut the line, keep it firm
Heat’s up
Fries the skin
Clouds drift in
It’s cool again
Hangin’ there, in mid-air
Fog looms the lagoon
Those two gulls still croon a tune
Screech like dogs bark at the moon
Right here today, on the Bo Bay
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