Puget Sound
A misty drizzle falls
over Puget Sound —
enters every living
thing
thimble berries I
pick from the roadside—
berries red, soft,
tender
stain my fingers red
flood my tongue with
tang.
Water seeps into
leaves, grass, me.
I’m as damp as the
black crenulated slug
crossing the forest
path with deliberate gravity.
Under a lush green
cedar bough I lean
on its stout rough
trunk—
I feel the qi in
flowing through every living thing
and in water,
minerals, earth and from
sun cupped golden
marsh marigolds.
A sweetness breathes
from pink rose hedges,
chicory stands
sentinel for my blue longings.
Ferns breathe green
ideas
From graceful
filigrees.
Mist falls on an
unseen singer haunting
The forest canopy
with unearthly scales of notes.
Imbued, baptized
networks of roots under
my boots know I am
here—the news
travels all the way
down to the salty Sound.
Octopus, seals, sea otters
hear the news.
They know my love of
them and the gray whale
I greeted in the Baja
last winter breaches--
its great body and it
looks shoreward.
We are all joined in
this joy.
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