The seedling of a Poem,
Springs deep from within
Pushing as it finds its roots
Its birth, born of Hope begins
Words Sprout to bring it forth

And Rhyme feeds the bud to bloom
And with elation, soon petals form
And in celebration, a new Poem is born*
*And brings the sweet scent, of its full bloom.....

I'm thinking back to the times when I was camping last year
Sitting by a crackling log fire with Mollie at my feet
Watching the sun set over the trees
The smell of woodsmoke
Occasionally seeing a ghostly owl on silent wings
Hunting small creatures of the night
At such times I don't miss the company
Of mankind
I'm content with the solitude of the fields and woods
My only entertainment is what nature provides
The warm aroma of pine resin
The sweet song of the Nightingale
Who needs more than that?
I certainly don't
Out there in the woods I'm at peace with myself
I can put away the dark thoughts, the nightmares
Sometimes I will sit there until the early morning hours
Happy, content, not bothered by what tomorrows headlines
Might say
Unaware of the sadness, the daily death and destruction that makes the news
I look at faces on the moon
And in my mind see magic in the stars
Read stories in the crackling flames of the campfire
Solitude, peace, the time I love the most

I sit in semi darkness
And thoughts begin to grow
Mingled jumbled words caused by
The good old mountain dew

And so I take up the pen and page
And the words begin to flow
Words writ in the amber color of
The good old mountain dew

I had a few more sips
And watched the poem grow
Of words and phrases formed by
The good old mountain dew

The amber nectar flows
Its fumes invade your mind
Opens wide the gate of your imagination
That good old mountain dew

Gather people
for a story
so profound,
Not created by me,
But a rare, rare reality,
Where forces so profound converged,
Generations forward
were forever altered.

Where one person's heroics
were another's fatal error

Where a family's love
was smothered
in
the churning waters
of Big Lagoon.

Big Lagoon sits
north of Agate Beach
shining treasures can be found
in the gathering sands
To the west,
The ocean rises and falls
To the east,
The lagoon's placid grassy waters roll.

It was an Indian Summer's warm, warm day,
Everything it promised was delivered.
Two days after Thanksgiving,
I remember it well,
the fog was gone,
the sun was high.

A family dog beach walk

Howard and Mary,
Olivia,
Gregory, every one called him Geddie,
Geddie's girlfriend, Lily.
The family dog, Fran, chasing sticks
in the ocean and in the sand.

Time stopped for
a diamond moment,
sun reflecting off the ocean.

To chase a stick
Fran ran
a ten foot wave
took her under.

Geddie ankle deep edged forward
when within that frozen moment
another giant wave emerged
the cliff that is the sand gave in,
in the merciless embrace
of the terrible wave,
He was pulled under.

Down the beach
Howard ran
plunged into the waters
to save his son,
He only found
Kingdom come.

While Geddie made his way
out of those frozen waters
and could not find his father,
Called by what unknown voice,
He dove back under,
Not to be found
for hours and miles later.

What is the power of love
which would propel each one?

Mary watching this unfold
could not abide their fate
and herself plunged in
for one last attempt
at saving grace.

The ocean says
"Many have fallen in
but few survive."

Mary and Howard
rolled
in and out
in that frozen water's breath.

While Olivia and Lily
frantically
called 911
and struggled on the beach
out of reach.

The power of the ocean
the power of love
had made three
one.

30 minutes later
Fran ran out
looking to play
one more round.

If by the Pacific Ocean
you stand
see urgent footprints
in the sand,
By chance
you hear the plaintive cry
of
"Marco Polo"
voices calling to one another,
It is the ocean singing
their last lullaby.