The Sandpiper

The Sandpiper by Frances Frost

 

At the edge of tide

He stops to wonder,

Races through

The lace of thunder.

 

On toothpick legs

swift and brittle,

he runs and pipes

and his voice is little.

 

But small or not,

he has a notion

To outshout

The Atlantic Ocean.

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The Sandpiper

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