At the Ocean
Fledgling gulls, we wander the land,
our first flights now at hand,
Sand soon to be a distant thought,

as wings take flight,
Hot sun ever nearer,
Mother never dearer,
than as she teaches us
Freedom comes with love of sea

Life drums through our wings,  
we will fly and touch the sky
and smell the drops that downward fall
soon the heavens will cry
their children are wayward, they begin to maul
the earth with waves and wind,
light-house unmanned, ships bend
rocks creating graves,

and as we seek refuge, we see that life moves on:
convex, concave,  
the earth finds shape,
we mirror the Sun as
a new day dawns.