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Barefoot on Thin Ice


The Hawk and the Gull
The boys had breadstumps
And a yard full of gulls,
So the choice was obvious.
They had to feed the flying rats.
Thirty gulls in a sea of avarice
And two little boys in a sea of innocence.
Avarice and innocence
Are the perfect measure
Of childhood.
A scrap here,
A scrap there,
And a genuine scrap...
I saw the hawk,
Square in the eyes,
And said nothing.
She was waiting
For that perfect lunch for her kids.
And waiting.
The gulls noticed,
Tensed,
And flew off
As if the assistant principal
Had entered the boys' room.
The swiftest gull
Was the challenge
And the lunch.
 
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