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Gulls Follow a Plow

By: Ardis E. Parshall - May 13, 2014

Gulls Follow a Plow

By Ethel Romig Fuller

The seagulls always sense the time somehow –
Incited by primordial hungerings –
The very dawn a farm lad starts to plow;
And come by cohorts inland, their great wings
Sails billowing against the primrose east,
To follow with the grackles, row by row,
The share that noses a Lucullan feast
From soil where corn and pumpkins soon will grow.

And who shall blame a lad, if suddenly
The white thorn hedges turn a foamy blur …
The acrid dust to salty tang of sea?
If aboard a schooner, he careens with her –
The while he toils behind his plodding team –
To ports on purple coast-lines in a dream?

(1936)



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