salmon run
does the river too
have memory?

remembering him
the worn shell
still pink inside

moonlight
  on the rocky side
     of an oyster shell

outstretched cormorant
the sun rays filter
through my fingers

dreaming aloud
until the tide
touches our feet

island shrine
the slap of salmon
across the water

sea and sky
the sand slipping out
from under my feet

alone with my thoughts . . .
the wet sand a mirror
between ebb and flow

high tide
jellyfish
moons

sun along the shore
even the grey cockle shells
surprise me