A Sanctuary Sight.

I could take you, reader, to a quiet place Where sea meets sand, in secret beachy cove, And, sleeping there, a-sprawl in open spaces Lie a hundred seals or more in silent drove. The cliff-top watcher can but hardly count Their numbers, random sleepy bulks below Are motionless, until white pups, mounting Mother's slippery back expose stained yellow Underside and squeal with tiny lungs, crying Out for milk. All this seen from distant top Of perhaps two hundred feet. Flappers high Some now are fighting, raise huge heads, then flop Again to take more rest. This rare show, truly Free and unexpected, leaves me gasping In delight. What more exciting scene, blue Sky ceiling, and sudden sky-lark asking With a song, for early spring. The icing's On my cake with this Sanctuary sighting.