Tag Archives: Salish Sea

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Dream stealer

I am taking your dreams because you don’t want them.
You don’t want him. Your small child.
You let him out to play with me, for a while.
But you say you you are always happy.
You say things are perfect.
You say our friendship is forever.
Then you start to back away.
You take music first: I can’t sing along.
You stop teaching me your instrument.
You stop me from listening to practice.
You sing to me on my guitar
but you never listen.

You keep me from your friends.
You keep me from your family.
You don’t want to say
that you love me as a friend.

The connection dies as you hack parts away.

Only the beach is left.
Your small child plays and laughs with me
at the beach.
And that is gone too.

I am hurt. I block the connection for a year.

A year is gone.
You won’t come back.
You can’t come back.
I do not want you back.
But I open the connection.
I want your small child
and all the monsters you keep hidden.
Bears and monsters, come.
Come with the small child and play.

Is it unethical to steal a soul
if it is not loved?
If it is not listened to?
If it is trapped and frightened?

I am stealing your dreams because you don’t want them.
And I do.

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I look for dream stealer myths. Not a succubus. Nor a dream weaver. Something else. Maybe something that is not textbook. Or a kitsune?

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: textbook.

I took the photograph on North Beach yesterday.

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Wrought iron man

I know a man from an iron dale.
Stiff and creaky, he won’t change.
Rust flakes off as he hunts his grail:
the perfect woman, but he has aged.
She’ll let him do just what he wills,
drink and sing and run and hide.
A plastic doll might fit the bill.
While his joints freeze, dudettes abide.
He could do with rustoleum, a coat of paint.
He doesn’t see that he leaves a trail.
His friends cringe at his rusted taint.
I note that now they are all male.
He’s proud as hell of his iron will.
He’ll soon wake frozen, rusted still.

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For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: wrought iron.

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Flocked?

My daughter got here from Denver on Wednesday early. I picked her up in Seattle, we met a friend of hers for lunch, and returned to Port Townsend. I am so happy to have her visiting!

On Thursday we walked from East Beach on Marrowstone Island south to Nodule Beach, where it looks like rock eggs are birthing from the sandstone. What does one call a group of those rocks? A flock? There is flocked fabric, after all, why not rocks?

And what about the sea anemones? What is a group of them called? They really like certain rocks!

It was a beautiful day and a super low tide and we tried not to walk on the exposed eel grass or the sea anemones. The rocks and sand were fine!

And we met a hermit crab too.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: flock.

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Littoral zone

I walked on Marrowstone Island yesterday, south from East Beach. There was a super low tide, to -3.38 at 1:07 pm. When the tide came in, it was at +8.76, so that is a huge difference.

There were almost no people, but the group enjoying the low tide were the great blue herons! I counted 14. At one point they all alerted, and a bald eagle came down and perched on the rock that a heron had been on. There must be some very delicious food for the herons with the low tide. The eagle seemed to be considering heron to be a delicacy.

Here is the eagle (and the great blue herons moved!)

I came home with one very lovely agate.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: littoral.