A warm breeze over the ocean
Scatters the morning fog exposing
A scroll of kelp carrying
An otter cleansing himself
Before a meal of shellfish.
Swishing hypnotic sounds
From the incoming tide
A benediction for a young dead seal
Pushed toward shore.
After a liminal moment
The receding tide returns it
To the deep sea from whence it came
To be consumed by nature
On the far shore a line of light
Below the snowy Olympics
A fractured rugged coastline
Continually being sculpted
By nature’s whims.
As the sun spreads across Beacon Hill
Miniature eruptions in the soil
Release a spectrum of colours in flowers
Bird songs drift through new green leaves.
Grace is welcome wherever found.
By Hazel Ross