Seagulls, squealing a Spring duet,
Swim in pairs near rounded rocks,
Glide like swans in graceful concert
As domesticated flocks.
Salty breezes, lapping ebb tides
Racing waves that slap the shore
Flat horizon, sun-drenched plateau
Perfect point o’er which to soar.
Wheeling, wafting, white forms glinting,
All-consumed to multiply
Nests to feather, what e’er the weather
Tasks that cover sea and sky.
Sun sets, wind drops, cold fog creeps in
From the east without a sound
Just the squeal and cry of seagulls
Twilight song of fishing grounds.
There they wait for dove-gray babies
Soon to hatch with urgent cheeps
There they wait among the crab shells
Crouched in darkness, cold and deep.