Monday, April 18, 2011

Gulf Island Driftwood

The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going.
-John 3:8

firs and Madronas
lean over the sea cliff
stare down at the water
Indian paintbrush
pokes through dead grass
neon highlighters
in a sea of khaki

a solitary piece of driftwood
bobs restlessly in the channel
the wind pushes it north
inching towards Galiano Island

the sun is diffused in light clouds
comes in soft through smudged windows
young couple looks out at Salt Spring Island
her hand rests on the inside of his knee
like it belongs there

the diamond glints
her face is lit up
by window light
reflecting off
his bald head

the wind is not constant
changes direction
stops altogether
sometimes for days on end

it's hard to tell
where the log will end up
or how long it will take
to get there.

1 comment:

graham said...

this is solid.
only advice I'd give is to make the language even more spare-- cut some "is" "the" "likes."
the sparsity will heighten the mood you're going for.