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mackerel

POETRY

HIGHWATER

David Selzer By David Selzer1 Comment1 min read1.5K views

The incoming tide brings shoals of mackerel fry.

Herring gulls, perhaps a hundred, more,

young among them in their mottled plumage,

are yelling at the water’s edge, feeding

in frenzy as the small waves scatter.

Far out on the low, narrow, wooden jetty

my small family leans over to marvel

at the fishes before landfall. At my back

is the white crescent of hotels, the town,

the estuary, the mountains, sun setting.

 

They cross the beach, granddaughter running ahead,

towards me, as the frenetic birds

yell and flap. Along the horizon,

the forest of white wind turbines slowly

disappears, becomes a blurred prism of green,

ivory, red – like an attenuated,

distant, gaudy city.

 

 

 

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David Selzer By David Selzer
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POETRY

A REALLY BIG CONVERSATION

David Selzer By David Selzer7 Comments1 min read2K views

The prime minister of the fifth largest
global economy has asserted
the need for a big conversation
about gulls: not the greedy and the fearful
who voted for him but the species
laridae, especially the herring gull
that swarms in seaside towns and marauds
the 99 Flake out of the very hands
of the innocent, young and old alike.

Adult birds dive, swoop and grab to eat –
whether mackerel or deep fried Mars Bar.
The herring gull chick knows instinctively
to peck the red spot on its parents’ beaks
for food. It learns about battered sausage
and Cornish pasties from humans lording it.

Though herring gulls have a repertory
of voices – the mew, the yodel, the yelp,
the yuck, the cry, the snicker, the snigger,
the bark, the scoff, the cough, the scold, the plea,
the ullulation – from coastal roof tops
and are experts at inland waste management
they are endangered. Let us converse then
about concern and care.

 

 

 

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David Selzer By David Selzer
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