Inquisitive, she surveys the blue-black wilderness.
Alone, she seeks peace in the waving sargassum.
Noble, she spurns the long nets and the soup pots
of greedy nations.
Driven. she navigates her island night landing
to returtle the sea.
Fulfilled, she does not wait for the brash hatchling
dash to the wall of gulls.
At eighty, she has seen enough of the wide wet world
and is content with letting go.
-Anonymous