Quoth the seagull nevermore,
Sat on a boating pier,
Awaiting now the Northern wind,
The slight push forward near,

It calls to others of its kind,
And listens for the cue,
Will we stay squarely where we are?
Or fly to pastures new?

For on canals between the streets,
Will waters swiftly rise?
Will swimming be the way to go,
With ocean wisdom wise?

The seagulls listen on the pier,
Like networks on the shore,
Take notice of the seagull song,
And worry nevermore.