Salute The Terns Poem by Greg Gaul

Brisk beach winds spray
Specks of sand in the air
Perched in regal pose patiently
A squadron of Royal Terns
Take their posts in the
Bird formation on whisking sands

Orange beaks point in unison
Cutting through flowing air
Breezes bristling crown feathers
Gently patting grey and white bodies
As they waft while at
Standing attention ready for
Nature's orders

Some think we're deigned to order nature
Or is nature destined to order us
Watching their orderly routines
Beautiful designs so soothing
When they take to the sky
Something deep within us appreciates it
And who knows why