Category Archives: hike

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Dungeness Spit

I had an errand in Sequim yesterday. I finish quickly and the sun comes out. I head right for Dungeness Spit.

I did not hike that far, only for a couple of hours. It was really beautiful and I hit it when the tide was finishing going out and started back in. Do pay attention to the tides if you go there!

I could see Victoria from the spit.

It is so beautiful with the sun coming through the forest too.

I am thankful for a beautiful and vibrant spring day. “Spring?” you say. Yes, look. On the hike back through the woods, the leaves are out and even some new flowers. Spring starts early here!

For the Ragtag Daily Post: vibrant.

Resources: https://www.wta.org/go-hiking/hikes/dungeness-national-wildlife-refuge

https://www.alltrails.com/trail/us/washington/dungeness-spit-trail

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rebel ducks

Yes, ducks with Mohawks, these ducks are rebels and rascals. I saw a gang fishing, probably without a fishing license, out at Fort Worden this week. They couldn’t be bothered to notice me. Hopefully they didn’t notice that I was capturing their picture.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: rascal.

These are red-breasted mergansers. Read more here.

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his steady light

Dreaming of the Sun
whose warm rays surround her
and caress her
daily

she orbits him
and he pours his love on her
steady
constant
joyous

occasionally he flares up
and that might hurt
some of the small cells
on her surface

but she sheds
dead cells
they are reabsorbed
and she basks

in his warmth
with joy
ecstatic
orbit

she is alive
turning
whirling
so her small children
are not overcooked

like mercury

are not frozen

like uranus

mars is a rival
but the seas are dead
at least

her small children
think so

and venus
swelters
and is clouded
all the time
toxic

she turns
dancing
full of joy

in his steady light

___________________

written January 8, 2022

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gristle for my mill

I think
you are my muse

another muse
in a series

like the men
who have young girls
in series
muses

I think
you are gristle
for my mill

I will grind your bones
to poetry

you don’t like my poems
I don’t care

hopefully you won’t read them
your bones
ground