To the beach at Powlett river a quiet estuary
Where fresh water off of the high ground joins the salt water of the sea.
A flock of sanderlings from the north lands from their travels they seemed tired
Little coastal World travellers that poets and artists have inspired
To write poems about and to sketch their image their tiny wings had brought them far
From the cold north of the Northlands where white bear and walrus are.
There’s a mystery about them that scientists can’t seem to explain
How they find their way so far south and find their way back home again
Is it Mother Nature who guides them birds have such a tiny brain?
And the mystery about them as a mystery will remain.
They were born to be World travellers and they travel till they die
Twice a year during migration thousands of miles of coast they fly
From the Artic down by coastal Asia to the Southern Hemisphere
And back home to their breeding grounds to the Northern Spring each year.
On the quiet beach at Powlett on a sunny Winter’s day
Little travellers of the World from the Northlands far away
Tired from their long coastal journey resting by the estuary
Where the waters of the Powlett joins the great Pacific sea.

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