Curse of Heaven

Everywhere on my island,

I’m surrounded by moats of waters…

Trapped wind people and water babies,

We are Whidbey’s sons and daughters.

Occasionally someone finds an escape,

Arriving on the envied main land…

Only to realize the wind calls them home,

Replanting feet on cliffs of sand.

Everywhere on my island,

We curse the rain, the sleet and ice…

Then glance out any window,

To rediscover this Salish paradise.