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Creatures of the tidal line,
racing wonders easily found
skimmingly parallel to the ocean's edge,
avoiding man encroaching at the beach,
seemingly beyond all but Nature's reach.

Common small piper who chooses not to sing.
Kind of plover, Webster alphabetized,
briefly described, then another word
on the demographic list.

You will stay with me, perfect vision to espy.
rarely spreading wee wings to fly,
one or two or multitudes scurry by,
in metric weight or less scientific ounces,
not enough for scavenger interest,
concern or aggressive pounces.

Unnoticed by leashed dogs, walkers,
bathers, tan seekers,
even most children, builder of moats
shell and sand castles.

A bit of flesh and mottled feathers,
no interest given, ignorant of
other aviary living,
while mighty gulls, pile, carry, mud
making astutely continuous digging.

I'll never hold you in my hand,
note your plumage or your form,
nor why you exist at all...
while civilizations rise and fall.

Author: Roy Schoenberg - Bay Shore, New York.

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