Sunday, February 27, 2022

Bifurcated Shells at Low, Low Tide

A dozen seagulls fly away from me
Yet I doubt I have the power
To make others comply --

On the mountaintops where one can see
There's no point in intervening,
Even if there was a way --

But to watch without these feelings
Is to know you don't know love,
How even hatred is a form it takes.