The selkie sits and edits

The selkie sits and stares
silently out to sea
content in her solitude.

No. Wrong. She doesn't stare. She isn't searching

The sea flows into her eyes
washing away the tears.

No. No tears now. Just a softness.
So OK, let's try this again.

The selkie sits and silently
swallows the sea into the
softness of her eyes,
content in her solitude.

No again. Sorry about that. Not silently.
There is an almost imperceptible hum,
a wordless song, but more shapeless
than a song. A little ribbon of sound.
Shall we take it from the top?

The selkie -

We are still talking about a selkie, right?

Yes, still the selkie. Try again.

The selkie, sitting, sends her strands of sounds out to the sky,
swallowing the sea into the softness of her eyes,
alone and yet content in -

I'm stuck. I was trying to put in something about "peaceful solitude" but it's not scanning.

That's ok. I was going to stop you anyway.
Not alone.
No solitude.
She doesn't feel alone.
Yes, I know, strictly speaking she's alone,
the red-haired Irish sea captain
gone on a voyage
lo these many years
no guarantee if and when he'll return
etc. etc.
Doesn't matter.
She doesn't feel alone.
There's this little warm glow...
Yes.
I know.
It doesn't make sense.
But there it is.
Try again.
One last time.

The selkie sits and smiles.

Yes.
Exactly.
Good girl.