Time for the Gulls

by Carol Lynn Pearson

It’s time, Father,

For the gulls, I think.

My arms shake

From flailing my field.

I sink,

Broken as the little stalks

Beneath their devouring burden.

I yield it all to you,

Who alone can touch all things.

It’s time, Father,

For the gulls.

I will be still,

And listen for their wings.