Poem: 'Souvenirs of Puget Sound’


I sit upon a bleached log, my companion a seal pup; its mother feeding deep in the ribbon kelp.

Mornings are best. I wrap myself in sunrise and birdsong. I gather sea glass pick up a tiny starfish.

I watch the ferries, squat in murky water, whacking across the wake of tankers — all day into night.

I yearn to see an orca. A rainbow arches over the white lighthouse. A seaplane, a white blip, traces the shore.

Dunes nurture sea grasses, sparrows, wildflowers I can’t name. Blackberry bramble define my path. I pick up a shell,

think of souvenirs, of a desire to hold on. The starfish moves one tiny arm. I toss it back into the Sound.

Sandra Babka Bellingham

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