Bound by millennia of instinct,
the last loons have left the lake,
headed now for the coast;
we wish them well and ask in
return,
my coastal friends, dreaming as you
do
of vast oceans and powerful tides,
to send them safely back in spring,
back into our lives, bound, as we
are,
to forever hear their mournful
calls
and shrill cries echoing in the
night sky,
reminding us who we are.
