Low Tide

Salt thick drips beneath the pier dark wet hangs in air humid with seaweed exhausted and driftwood damp parts, body, of crabs eaten recently left by birds pirate who gorge themselves crabbing out of season without license barnacles shake themselves from nose to tail...

The pull of springtime and the Borg

bees up to their knees in swollen pollen tulips rise kiss the day apples blossom giggle, blush and run away frogs harmonize in undirected choir damp soil winks to beckon seed earth preens her baby greens nudges buds from ground’s nest puddles twirl feet to lure...

Gray Whales at the Beach

gray whales at the beach and we forget where we are who we are where we were going people dogs even eagles instantly transformed into giddy paparazzi in their presence pier becomes backscratcher good riddance barnacles routine becomes holy as you are looked into eye...