and on the waves in turmoil
in the harbor
gulls floated
like pieces of paper
set adrift, little
boat-like birds
twirling
in the wind-tossed waves
that drove into
the strong arms of the seawall
at the apex of the bay
where a statue of Sappho stands,
young woman
with a lyre—not
looking out to sea
but glancing at the curve
of the seawall
and the birds,
those lost notes
before rain