Before springtime had blushed in warmth
and welcomed us from winter’s dark
toward generous days,
I saw myself in love—in love again.
Like an enchantment hanging over me—
as I chase flocks of seagulls along ocean shores—
how I long for one of those pretty birds
to fly to me instead of flee
But if exhausted, or my legs give way,
and I fall to the ground,
I find myself comforted by the sand,
each speck telling a history of such an endless love,
being washed—washed again—
so shaped by her ageless devotion,
and resting peacefully by the sea’s side.
Now that spring and resurrection have shone
light and life in heavenly hues,
I see that you were only ever a seagull,
while I have always been the sea.