a wee bit of Friday poetry. . .off the cuff as it were

Searching for treasures among the rocks,
we find a cache of crabs--
legs and eyes and scales blink furious
in the new year's light

Here in the shade of the madrona tree
two brothers' voices swallowed in shush of waves
a thousand years of driftwood curls white--
the madrona whispers wind and what does not last
The Two Brothers are silent but we hear their song:
the snowy clam shells, how they shatter to sand.

Grey gull, content to know ships, ferries,
and all things that concern the restless
sits now, striped with winter, in the gathering fog



thanks to Meredith & Ken Cockroft for their photos.