My own hands, diving into
The water in front of me,
Trailing bubbles, are gannets,
Foolish, lacking fear. They pull
Me forward repeatedly,
Leaping and pulling through waves.
I do not so much control
Them as watch them, admiring
Their beaks, how they are at home
Plunging into cold water,
How they rise, invisibly
Behind me and reappear,
Brave birds, braver than I am,
Taught by me but leading me.
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