Best Home

Isaac wanted to go to the ocean,
To see the gulls and throw rocks
Into the lapping foam. He said, “Do you know?
The seaside is the seagulls best home.”
So we sat on the pebbled shore,
And watched the birds spiraling overhead.

A small white yacht unfurled
A surprising black spinnaker,
Just where the supple sea
Melted into the pearly grey sky.
The clouds shifted and loosed
An iridescent line of light on the horizon.

I said, “Do you know? America
Is on the other side of this ocean.”
“Will we go back there Mommy?”
He asked. I said we might.
Suddenly the black-sailed boat
Jibed and headed for the light.