Tha Gazing

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The horse tail
whips and wisps of serious clouds
harken in an octopus blast of pattern,
upon the deep-green of ever,
and escarpments, of an island, in the sea of the Salish.

Ferry boat blunders along eastward,
to the calamity mists
draped upon the waterfront shores,
of cranes, and ships, and casual dreams of a trade,
in worldy goods.

Lighthouses ponder their tasks,
upon the beach of hidden peril,
self-important small boats
face the waves of ship wakes,
and fragrant tides, twisting wind, observable realities, persistent breeze,
and the willingness of a shipper’s worth.

All passengers gaze into the changing scenery
…sometime.

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