The days are long, Lord of our life and light,
And sometimes nights seem slower than should be
—except that we have company.
The eyes that see
Vouch for the elegance of our endless, restless, east-west flights;
They see us sail across the north and think us agile.
You see us too: our sails, bogs, fens,
Ponds, marshes, conifers high, low
And near or far from water,
Are never off your monitor
—don’t ask me how or why.
We fail and fall for finitude, but never fall without your note and knowing.
Your singular screen that spans
Sites where we prey and feed from,
The conifers that give us rest, nest, breed, and brood,
The places where we match, hatch, and disperse,
The lakes we swim, skim, bob, forage, float, and fly from
As it does the universe. . . .
That is what we wonder at.
So too should they, so much more valued,
If they would believe,
Than Bonaparte’s gull.
