From sandy graves our swarm is born
no storm no sea can crush our fate
to rise and break through summer’s morn
and face the sun no seconds late.
The sky it blinds our black bead eyes
not one but two, we shuffle forth
towards the blue that prides in size
and churns with brine, we flutter north.
Bright green specks in sapphire blue
we dart, not knowing what we know
though most of us won’t make it through,
we must proceed, as time must flow.
And in a blink, a hundred years
for those who fell I shed my tears.