The Socratic Seagull

I fled before dawn    
racing my heart  
down gray weathered Cape Cod steps    
onto wet cool squishing sand  
   
Then I dashed    
between razorblades of ammophilia    
towards frothy ebb tide    
and    
serenity  
   
“Why do you chase the tide?” asked  
a prying gull    
preening proper  
balanced on one leg, yet still professorial  
   
“Are you talking to me?”  
I responded    
shocked  
not that a gull could talk  
but rather by  
the lunar gravity of his erudite tone  
   
“Of course I’m talking to you!”  
he retorted    
so pedantically  
   
Then the bird chided,  
“My hooting  
is reserved    
for gulls, owls, and other scholarly birds!”  
   
He then folded his wings impatiently  
still awaiting an insightful reply  
   
“Well, I just need    
answers!”    
was my timid, empty response  
   
The Belcher’s Gull ruffled his feathers    
vigorously  
most indignant, as if to say:  
Why on Earth do you think
the oceans could ever fill up  
all of your insufficiency!  
   
Oddly lightened and enlightened, I stopped running    
away from life  
its questions  
and myself.