I watch them on the beach -
shorebirds they are called
running here and there.
Residents of land more than the air,
they'd rather poke their beaks into the sand
probing for morsels of tasty crustaceans.
Pecking, always pecking,
scrambling to and fro,
they're focused, ever focused
on the job at hand.
Not especially strong, graceful, colorful, or pretty,
they are, however, speedy.
They scuttle easily through low tides,
rushing for the shore on skinny legs
when waves come crashing.
These industrious little creatures
seem unconcerned with the loftiness of clouds.
Yet at times, they will gather as one body in the sky,
performing an amazing aerial show.
Run, sandpiper, run. Soon your eggs will hatch.
In your being grounded
you reap rewards.
Written by Andrea Dietrich on 9/17/13
for nette onclaud's BUILD YOUR OWN SAND!Poetry Contest