Pacific Talisman

Salt-sanded hull

carves icy waves –

Forward ho, like a beam of light

penetrating every particle

to reach and touch

the waiting, indigo horizon.

They cling like effervescent magnets

to its arched, symmetrical body,

splashing up and outwards

like hands clapping; praising;

a raucous choir of

antediluvian sound.

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Wind Mountain

Whale belly white

talus clanks underfoot

like brittle bones of

a xylophone;

an ancient song

from a mountain’s tongue

lying atop layers of

soil and needle.

 

There’s a story here

where they quested

for Spirit

on the ridge

under a snowy blanket of stars.

 

The Doug Firs whir

with the sudden rushing wind.

Overhead, a bald eagle peers

into the treetops.

 

We’re a tiny page

of a great big book;

passing clouds casting

shadows across the valley floor.

 

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