The Watchers of the Shore
The gulls of sea,
So patiently,
They gaze up in the sky,
But down below,
They look to go,
And shock those passing by.
Though some will stalk,
You as they walk,
And trek across the sand,
But look away,
What might fall pray,
Is food that’s in your hand.
Upon the crook,
The others look,
And caw to make it known,
Then from the sound,
They gather round,
To fight amongst their own.
Then back to fly,
Up to the sky,
They peer to search for more,
And so to all,
It’s them we call,
The watchers of the shore.
Copyright ©
JD Maxwell
|