Out to Sea
From the sand below
Hatchling young
Naught do they know
That were it not
For the people there
Great birds would swoop
Borne on the air
And take those hatchlings
To cliff-made nests
To feed their young
And in storm to rest
No, they can not
And will not know
The people there
Of Mrn below
Those white washed cliffs
Protect those young
For love of one
Who's yet to come