I heed the talking sea as it gurgles up and down the well worn rock

Grey circles indent the ancient stone like many belly buttons

I crouch; legs folded beneath me like a gull and give myself to looking

Looking at all the pebbles and shells that fill this little rock-shelf

Each one so different in shape and form—each one a singular delight

I wish to take each one and hold it then put it in my pocket

But my pockets already bulge and weigh me down

And so I just look and smile and hum softly to myself

Now and then I look up to take but a sip of the intoxicating delights there

The water—wild as blue flame—the rough islands of forest and stone

Then I look down again, my soul momentarily satisfied

There is not but me and the sea and the stones

And the gull perched above me on the cliffs

At last I rise to take my leave and return to the family I love

As I go, I call to the gull, imitating his harsh and high-pitched song

He tilts his pure white head and gives a puzzled chirp in response

I grin at his puzzled yellow eyes and skip off across the pebbled shore

Here, in this living bit of masterpiece, I am happier than words

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