song of shilshole

autumn leaves swirl 'round my feet while the crows squawk, 'how now!?' rain looms in the sky, perfectly perched in the silver and gray hiding in the beard of the winter man who watches over the summer's smile summer's souvenirs dance from cottonwoods and maple trees little love notes dangling in the shorter days and shivering in the longer nights the empty sea, the fog, and sanctuary kiss the sky with its blue lips wet with love and loss tears collected from sky and souls from boatman's wives, children's sighs and wild heron's cries and in the distance... a swirl of smoke a wood fire stove a kettle whistling disturbing a sleeply cat curled in comfort by the old man's boots the smell of pipe tobacco and black currant tea a open volume of Whitman singing the songs of self and longevity shadows flickering from a candle near its end skipping and snickering at the line between death and born again the wind sweeps in and one by one the drops make wake on the waters calm opaque seabirds fly, swoop and hide in the tiptop tuffs of the arbutus cooing and cawing at the cold a train in the distance makes sound as it rounds the seaside mountain town and my footprints can be found along the shilshole smile. 13 oct 2009 -fae a moment from my walk...