Saturday, August 6, 2016
This is where the prairie ends;
Our crops and asphalt meet the sand…
The Olympics touch the Salish Sea
Like a moat around our land.
I saw today, a forest fire,
Caused by a lightning storm…
On a mountain, a ferry ride away,
Far from our isle, weather-worn .
Our houses blow down in the wind,
We live on cliffs, that wash away,
Deciding in the end, the beauty
Is compelling enough to stay.