Seagull

Such a turbulent spring
Across a wanton world
Just below the surface
Are the working
Of such cardinal sins.
Discordant banging
Of the social dustbin lid
The raucous gunfire rattle
Covers the surreptitious
Whispers of more secret sins.
No amount of cries of Shame
Will stop it rising again and again,

Like the seagull depositing ordure
Tis the nature of the game.

JL March 4 15:17