The floodgates by the sea are open,
the land retreats silently
gurgling into the reeds and rolls
backwards to the river bank.
They are running and leaping.
They swim against time and tide.
Their muzzles crest the water line,
their eyes black and flashing.
Next they leap ashore
hurrying onward, ever on,
the banks of death fading behind them.
Pelts and claws are drying out.
Far off and faint in their ears
there’s still a roar; then silence falls
in their hammering hearts.
