They wait for weeks and weeks,

biding their time beneath the sand.

Until at last, under midnight's moon

they're ready to race across the land...

Small flippers swiftly push

the mountains of sand aside.

A wave of turtles sweeps

across the beach, toward the tide.

On silent wings the first birds swoop,

talons outstretched for easy meals.

And there for some, the race that just begun

ends, with birds at their heels.

The race for life is brutal -

only one in a hundred survive.

Only one in a hundred will make it back

to the waves where they now dive.

They waited for weeks and weeks,

biding their time beneath the sand.

Until at last, under midnight's moon,

they raced across the land.