Gullsong

Appearing to levitate; I remember
An ancient gull hanging in the air

For a moment I was the feather
Blown out of place and then
The saturating, windblown spray

I saw clearly ahead, in my old age,
I was and would be … fatigue
I
I was also the gull in less furious times,
I find that it’s always the way.

And growing into tempest I learned
To lean into the gale and bluster
Meet wind and force the same

I begin to ask whose energy
Do I use and whose the gull?
On whom did you rely in those times?

Some elemental fuel?
The ghost of our bones-to-be?
Unstoppable force?
Unceasing thought?

All will run down on us eventually,
The gull; along with you; along with me.  
All will run down and feathers
Will rest undisturbed on the ground