The Birds and I

The sea is turquoise
And the cliffs austere,
The plangent pounding
Of the waves

The gulls are glad
To heed themselves
When we are
Shadows far away

But we are just
As real as they
And need companions
In the world

Not to impose upon
A nesting shore
Our vagrant errantries
Of self

But to imagine
More than sand,
Our souls beyond the
Broken drift of sea

For we are here
The birds and I
In spite of all the
Things I thought to be