Turn this into a poem about a seagull instead

The Sandpiper
Frances Frost

At the edge of tide
He stops to wonder,
Races through
The lace of thunder.

On toothpick legs
Swift and brittle,
He runs and pipes
And his voice is little.

But small or not,
He has a notion
To outshout
The Atlantic Ocean.
The Seagull's Call

By the shore, it stands tall,
Wings unfurled, it heeds the call.
Through crashing waves and skies so blue,
It sings its song, its voice so true.

On slender legs, it swiftly goes,
Dancing on sand, where ocean flows.
With cries that carry far and wide,
The seagull soars, a graceful stride.

In flight, it conquers winds on high,
Embracing freedom with every try.
A symbol of resilience and grace,
The seagull's spirit takes its place.