In those moments before dawn
when there is just enough light 
to walk without tripping over driftwood,
I hunt for shells and watch lines of
gulls, sandpipers, terns, 
twitter and skitter, playing
in the waves and trying to distinguish
treats from bits of sand and stone.
Suddenly, light increases and
they scramble into lines by species,
all facing the same spot on the horizon
where, if my weather app is 
to be believed, the sun will rise.
A reverent silence dominates.
They are still, so still. Not even 
gentle tickling from 
rolling waves, elicits movement.
I check my watch.
In a minute, sun is due to appear. 
Indeed, sun rises up on time.
Celebrating sun’s successful leap 
over the horizon, a gull screeches.
Birds’ skittering and twittering resumes. 
Strutting about now, satisfied that 
they’ve done their part,
they forage with confidence, secure
in the knowledge, that indeed it was
their moment of reverent 
silence that facilitated sunrise.
 
I tip my beach hat to the nearest bird, 
in thanks and continue my search for shells.