There’s a little sandpiper on the shore

Pecking frenetically

I stand solitary, watching him scurry

Those little feet hurry energetically

At the base of the crumbling waves

I wonder if this is how he spends his days

He’s alone, like he got cut off from his pack

I happen to look back and there are two others

Little guys in the land of large fliers

I think about my own life – is nature a reflection?

I’m stuck in a state of introspection

In front of the crashing white tops

Watching a sandpiper hop

They have a familiar way

The beach is such wonderful inspiration for a writer