She tips the toppling tide,
lavish underbelly of an albatross,
and how she rides.

Each wave washing
its imposing self to shore,
more, glorious more,
this gasping February seashore.

Tufts of feathers flutter
and dune grasses dance muster,
must hold ons,
this rallying of  the determined.
Grace notes, song of nature swim in.
Melody of gull, harmonious tension
broken.

Her flight brings tears. She is gone.
Will she weather? For now perhaps,
but not long.