the sound of their distinct caws
     ebb and flow with the tide

their majestic swoop earthwards
        is rewarded with morsels
                      of fried fish

we morph into polka dots
                         of movement

as we gather beneath
            the breath of their wings

inhaling blue notes
          salt dancing on dry lips

limbs long since surrendered
             to sun bleached sands

the rise and fall
          of a cacophony of voices
                        synchronises

with stories their eyes
                         cannot express