The Return of the Seal

10am on a tuesday, quarantine - lockdown isn't a term that exists in the head of an artist. Lockdown is living.


I kneel at the edge of the sea, brought to my knees after recognising the return of the seal. 


I haven't seen him in months.......I think maybe November and now he has taken to his space in the warm waters by the rocks


I stand and watch 


I often wonder what a lonely place it might be, as he seems to be living a "single" life.


But there are thirty Canadian geese floating about these days - moving towards his quarters now. 


I have decided that he is male - maybe it is because I am female. I wonder if he feels crowded out.


Lockdown doesn't exist as long as we got the sky above and the sea stretched out or trees that breathe so our lungs can beat. 


I whistle out to the ocean to draw attention to the seadog. 


I don't care who hears me, validation left the building in my mid-thirties and even more so now in the midst of Coruna. 


Pedestals have fallen away, everyone gently pushed down to the same sway.


I turn around and dance in the water, hoping the noisy ripples travel to his ears and I wonder if they can hear as much above as below.


I bow to the geese, for they have now taken a lower slot in my attention span. They have travelled over 4000km from the Arctic to be here. Seldom do I hear their deep honking calls above the gulls.


All thirty of these dark bellied Brent birds disappear in synchronicity below, perhaps putting a sign up saying gone fishing. That same sign has swung from my window for a long while now, except my rod is the pen.


I take off the shoes - it must be seventeen today in the rays, the first time to shed the layers after winter and the mother's phrase ringing in my ear  - don't cast a clout til May is out. 


I will admit to feeling an artic chill - let's be real here


Do viruses exist in the sea? 


Would a seal befriend Canadian geese?


And when I envisage myself as a selkie, I ask, would the mind be as busy as the human me?


What does the seal do all day, in between popping his head up to let my naked eye blink in delight, before it says goodbye?


This "lockdown" makes me wonder about our kind, and more than ever I want to look to other species to see their vibe.


It is 10.30am, and the day is whatever I want it to be, and I'm guessing that's probably the way it should be — in the animal kingdom, things get back to basics.


I walk to the caravan, and sit to write this. 


The seal is gone about his business, the geese have split up. I see just two from the window now. 


And oddly enough, I kind of don't give a damn that I am by myself, whistling to a water beast.


For as long as the sea is by my side, loneliness will not take a seat on this ride.




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