their bellies are full of dead bodies of crabsnthey cracked on the street and tore at with their mouthnand the tide is coming innand a storm is coming innand the waves crashing over each otherndark birds hanging motionless in the windnkids go grab your kites and tie up your coats tightntrees rock back and forth and crash into the power linesnand maybe the stars will come out tonightnif we lit a fire could it stand the bellingham windndark birds handing motionless in the windnwatching we join themnreaching into grey lightnwait till the storm blowsnback into the sea againndark birds hanging motionless in the wind