Poem of the Month


Late Morning
   Sequim Bay, WA

I like to watch
madrona leaves
riffled by breezes,
to see this famous tree’s
umber-blond curls
gathered into  shavings
on a gravel plane. 
I try to keep
my certain life
at right angles, 
as if it were hemmed
by the same border
of wood that holds
the bark of four seasons.
I like to dream words
glister, will outlast.