Sunday, August 30, 2009

Three Poems from the Oregon Coast


Cape Perpetua

Looking down on birds with outstretched wings,

I realize
some
things

can
only be
understood

                                                              in flight.





Visiting the Ancient Spruce

Yes, my friend. I understand.
We can talk some other time.





Whale Bone

Whale bone
is not what you
think it is.

It’s what you
remember later,
at the ocean’s
edge.

From Songs and Letters, originally published August 7, 2007.


Update:
In the Forum: death, leaves, and new poetic forms.

1 comment:

Leks said...

Remembering at the ocean's edge is the finest thing to do.