Impressions
Impressions
Massive white ranges
Jagged, sharp, stabbing the sky
Still, above the tide
Mountain alpenglow
Phantom water fills the tent
The first butterfly
The sun is very warm
When there is sun it is hot
I really like the sun
Filtered sun, but dry
Sleeping in. Licking our wounds
On Puffin Island
We have travelled far
Still to wonder what is next
Where do we go now?
New day, new paddle
There is an island waiting
To be discovered
Paddle for two hours
Then we get to eat and bathe
Paddle for two hours
When watching paint dry
The damp hair swishes to the
Window with nothing
Nature all around
There's more art to be drawn
Yet not enough time
Towards the ocean
A blue-ish gray hump appears
T'is to be whale
I see the mountains
I see the snow glistening
I dream of old foods
Such a magic place
Has never been known to be
Quite like Glacier Bay
Rain drops from the sky;
Scoters, gulls, geese fly up north
The storm has arrived
Feathers above fins
Below, Glacier Bay is
The animals’ home
Shell bits in my tent.
It is a gorgeous purple.
Shell bits are welcome.
The glacier is here
It's cool gaze looks down at us
As I gaze in shock
The water is calm
As the ice passes by us
Someone will crash soon
The hidden garden
Cold, wet, beautiful, lush, soft
Mossy wonderland
Dry wood makes great fire
But there is no dry wood here
Wet wood makes wet fire
Scoter wings whistle
Kittiwakes dive on bait ball
Oyster catchers scoot
Always rock seating
Big ones and slippery ones
Beaches made of pain
Every stroke you make
Under every step you take
Life’s in glacier bay
Not many tissues
Blow, fold, blow, fold, blow again
Like a snot pastry
Death will come for us,
But we mustn’t worry now.
Enjoy life here, now.
The vole approaches
And with a sense of purpose
Ultimately leaves
Never has there been
This much water in the world
And so little sun
Anticipation
The first lash of the rain whip
Approaches, falls cold
O queen of dairy
Your cheese curds will be mine
Rev up those fryers
Today is the day
I will eat thirty corndogs
Rock on brochacho