The sea gulls dip in a whirl of white
And follow behind the plow
Hunting for food in the furrowed row,
So friendly—no strangers now!
I wonder: While they were tiny birds,
At night when they went to sleep,
Did their mothers fold them in strong white wings
And tell them stories to keep
Their memories bright with mighty deeds,
Like my mother told to me?
Did she tell about their ancestors
Who came from the inland sea
And ate the crickets in the fields,
Thus saving the brave Pioneers?
I wonder: Have sea gulls known their story
Through all of these long, long years?
Perhaps someone has let them know—
So graceful and free each flies!
No one will harm the sea gulls
As they wing through Utah skies.