Poem by Carl Sandburg

Sandpipers

Sandland where the salt water kills 
   the sweet potatoes.
Homes for sandpipers—the script of their feet is 
   on the sea shingles—they write in the morning, 
   it is gone at noon—they write at noon, 
   it is gone at night.
Pity the land, the sea, the ten mile flats, 
   pity anything but the sandpiper's wire legs and feet.

1. Bath
2. Summer Stars
3. Loam
4. Sheep
5. Mascots

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