the birds feed her —
although, she hands them little bits of food.
the process: mutual.
but maybe you don’t know of what’s
not spoken quite the way she does
(i know i don’t)
the gulls know her —
the only one they recognize like that,
a type of wordless grace,
but maybe you have never seen
her like, i know i rarely have
a ministry to all who move with wings.
an act of love