Where northern sea meets western land
purple starfish clump on rocks
exposed at falling tide
people, gulls, and eagles crowd
higher rampart bluffs among
sacred cedar trees
build hidden get-aways
hunch elbow to elbow
at the nautical neighborhood bar
claim every winding inch of shore
buy and spend
make love to ancient lore
spirits that rule in mist and rain
mystical bears, birds, and trees
whose sacrifice their children are
whose priests beneath a totem frown
in sweetgrass clouds intone
to sweep of feather, rattle of bone
gospel of death by gods
of elemental stuff
that Jesus died was not enough
he had to rise again
can this truth come
would there be room
to birth the God of light and love
without a virgin’s waiting womb
an empty lot along a cove?
ahh, the flavour of the Islands...
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