through chest, limbs, face, with muscles loosened;
I rose with easy breathing, longing for the sea.
Though often hated, seagulls have good sense,
and know, like me, they can’t live far from coasts.
We need relentless surf, stern sand, green depths
salt breezes, crumbling cliffs, shrimp feasts.
If roving too far inland, thick with trees
or static lakes, we find it hard to breathe.
Douglas Jones, MFA poetry (Univ. of Idaho), MA philosophy (Univ. of Southern Cal). Douglas teaches high school literature at The Cambridge School in San Diego, CA.
