Utah Gulls in Spring
By Richard F. Armknecht
A regiment of gulls is on parade
In single line along the furrow’s lip.
They break before the tractor’s fusillade
And form again behind the gang-plow ship.
They skirmish briefly as the new-turned loam
Reveals its flotsam – shining grub and worm.
They dip strong beaks in stubborn, sandy foam
And them resume their line, unruffled, firm.
These gulls have never waited by a shore
Nor followed vessels out of sight of land.
Their lake is flat and sterile, but the lore
Of waves is in their blood. They understand
The ancient curling things. Long years from now
These Utah gulls will know, when spring is waking,
The harvest to be had behind a plow,
With the brown waves breaking.