Fog streaming across the strait, lay along a grass verge, as capes and airies chatter to the south.Gulls and gannets in our lens, a feather carpet on parade, the sanctuary spars in the air.I conduct a dialogue with lighthouse and its barking doves, the aquabirds on curtains fly, a graceful search and final hover for beak stuffed with fish.Something beats in the distance, no schooner's sail or creaking deck, a longliner's single piston.Drums to the rock on which I perch.Partridge berries, bitter taste, from my mouth the sun's erased, by water pouring in my eyes, distance blurs, the wind is stinging.Fog streaming across the strait, lay along a grass verge, as capes and airies chatter to the south.Gulls and gannets in our lens, a feather carpet on parade, the sanctuary spars in the air.Gulls and gannets in our lens, a feather carpet on parade, the sanctuary spars in the air.Thank you for watching!