White Souls

Come back
to the lazy rivers
that curl through shadows,
past rock pools
the cliffs of falcons

Look
the heron is stalking
upriver
by the brackish waters!

There
starts the magic.
Now we move airborne,
follow the scent of the fuchsias
through wild bees' land
with the wind to the beach.

Will waves remember?
Do clouds recognise?
Nothing changes

I'll teach you forever
pop the pods
on the bladderwrack seaweed,
dig up lugworms for baits,
catch a crab.

we, the white souls of gulls
drying wings on rocks,
ride the winds
run with the sandpiper,
the oyster catcher,
the lonesome curlew!