Gulls' Eggs in Eelgrass

Polly Boyden

When the first young gull,
Quitting its nest, climbs the receding wall
Of wave, I think a wind must pass
Among those wings still cleaving to the roof
Of shell in eelgrass. Lacking better proof,
(Since mind of man is kept in a dark place),
I ask why otherwise this fury fans my skull
Of vanished wings beating beyond the gull?