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.

Illustrated by Ted Nagata