Companionship

Rather than write about something serious this week, I thought I would share a prose poem I wrote for StreamFest, our local celebration of our land trust. They asked for art celebrating the North Olympic Peninsula here in Washington. Of course, my thoughts include my dog. I hope you enjoy them.

My dog and I walk the beach.
Well, I walk.
He runs the curl of the wave, herding its break onto the shore.
I look down, hoping to add to the jumble of beach glass, agates, and figured rocks in my pocket.
I look up as an eagle soars overhead, flapping perhaps twice to drift easily over
Protection Island.
Mount Baker seems impossibly near, just a skip across the island to the mountain.
The splash of sea salt mixes with pine scent and decaying seaweed in a perfume unmatched.
Clouds scud by, patterning the water dark, perhaps hiding a sea monster.
My dog runs up, happy mouth open, and shakes a spray of water across my legs.
I send him to the base of the bluffs to sniff for mastodon teeth. . .
Maybe one day we'll find one.
I pull my coat down to sit on its tail in defense against the damp of the beach log.
My dog runs up the beach to challenge some gulls.
A mist is starting to fall.
But we are happy.