The tidal flat is a mirror where the sky meets the earth. As migratory birds skim its surface, they weave the sunset into their feathers. Whether perched on the mud or taking flight, every plume glows with warm golden light.

Waves lap gently at the shoreline in the distance, accompanying this pause in migration. Beaks probe the sand, wings stretch in the wind—with the most relaxed of gestures, they store the salt of the sea breeze and the damp of the tide in the gaps of their feathers.

When the last ray of sunlight sinks into the sea, they will carry the afterglow on their wings and form a line for the next coast. There is no need to ask for a return date; migration itself is a promise made with the wind, and every beat of their wings is a letter sent to the distance.