Poetry

A seagull swerves over the bay
where it flies slanted against the wind
and turns again away to the sea,
it screeches and around my feet
water flows continually in and out,
waves do slam over the big rocks
and fine spray is tossed high into the air
while I walk alone and smell the sea
and here and there find some more people;
the waves sudden carry me along
as if there is a kind of living thing to them
and all along the beach you are missing
as if you are gone to another place
and out of the water you walk gloriously beautiful.