OVERHEARD NEAR THE SEAL LEDGES                

it grieves me somber, seeing there are those

among the Folk who have forgotten how

to speak, to sing, whose children will not know

the heady joy of slipping out of skin

and dancing on the land in mortal guise

it grieves me, how enchantment ebbs, like tides

without returning: sunsets dim to rose

and from the rocks come only wails, like cows

like bulls, strange bestial song. This undertow

pulls all of us away from  shore, and when

we cry for mercy, humankind denies

our common heart, betrays its brutish side

so I, who sired no child, leave just this rhyme

pained lamentation for the fading time.

Larry Wilson