An Evening Walk on Vashon Island
I walk the yellow line until
the hum of an electric car
sends me scurrying for the ditch
Bands of rusty belts guard
cliff sides plunging into the ocean
hundreds of feet below
Not to worry, you would get stuck
in the frost tipped blackberry jungle
long before you tumbled into the salty wet
Invisible chipmunks rustle fallen leaves
I crouch, wait a lifetime
finally glimpse a tiny stripped back
A tonsure of clouds wraps itself around
Mt Rainier, the silliness of this hair style
not diminishing its grandeur one bit
Three sheep, two goats, a Guernsey cow
one llama and 6 pigs give testament to
Franklin Farm etched on old barn wood
I throw blackberries over the fence
unexpected manna from Heaven
causes a raucous pig war
A sooty crow lands atop
a soaring pine tree
I crick my neck in wonder at both
The sinking sun scatters
pinks and oranges onto
the grey slate of Puget Sound
As I turn my feet towards
some hot soup, new books
and a soft bed, I think
September on Vashon Island
is a glorious thing
lets do this again next year
shall we?
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