poetry & things

Girdwood

beluga whales surfaced, floating ghostly white

ferocious tides ripped, sands sinking

cowslip tripped the cloud’s crashing sky

sunbursts cracked storm walls, with fire yellow light

rain far-off sheeted, poured – hillsides weeping

fireweed bowed, bent heavily sleeping

the rutted road curved swerving narrowly upward

leading me to the sweet summer of Girdwood

Post navigation
Scroll to top