Poem: [The surging sea]

1
The surging sea
Slots its surf
Into the Strait of Juan de Fuca.

2
Two islands down the line
A lone crow
Cries out for its kind,

Bouncing on the fragile limb
Of a lodgepole pine parked
On Mount Constitution's summit

3
I hear the musical murmur
Of two voices in the next room
Like a rhythmic background

With no melody
Coming from
The other channel.

4
Tell Saint Peter
At the Golden Gate
He's just going to

Have to wait
Because I am not coming
The day before tomorrow

Or the day after yesterday.
I am in no rush
To be issued a harp

And besides
I can't tell an E flat
From a B sharp.

I think heaven can wait
They have enough people already
And do they really need a date?
---o0o---