This poem was originally published in the Poet’s Choice book, A Fleeting Visitor, and is about the morning view from my living room window.
The surface of the river
looks like wrinkles on a mirror
wiggling toward their ocean home,
reflections distorted by
a never ending procession of
constantly competing currents.
Branches drape over the
edge of the shore and droop
down toward the furrowed course
as English Ivy crawls up the
trunk, gradually choking
the tree into eternal sleep.
Blackberry brambles spread
slowly and unseen, colonizing
the bank and climbing
over fallen logs that have
become their own
thriving ecosystems.
The blue heron extends
its massive wingspan,
stretching out the frigid
early-spring-morning dew
as the eagle soars overhead
in search of sustenance.
Light breaks on the
eastern horizon as
the sun peaks its shining
head over the crest
of the mighty Cascade
Mountain Range.
