No longer all at sea
The seabirds help our coasts to live and breathe, Perched delicately across the food web. But watching as they fly and gently wreathe, Their numbers
"this is sixth form poetry, not Keats or Yeats"
The seabirds help our coasts to live and breathe, Perched delicately across the food web. But watching as they fly and gently wreathe, Their numbers
The Blessed Island was so poorly named, As from that day in March the land was cursed. Did Nature feel that mankind should be blamed?