***I sat watching three gulls on the rock shore. One slowly dismembered what was left of a decomposing fish while another stood close by, continually calling out a single mournful note. The third - pure white - stood off at a distance watching dispassionately. The singing gull turned its head heavenward. I imagined it was singing nature's mournful dirge: the oldest song of all: In this beautiful but broken world all life survives on other life. Or is it that life consumes death? Or perhaps ... we are all the song***