[jack writing in from Austin, Texas. Yeah, it's not a Texas poem at all...]
The sounds on Puget Sound
The fog pushes up the hill
and the stars fade
into a milky film
smeared across the sky.
I hear the voices
of three distinct sea lions--
Momma, Poppa, Baby,
Or maybe three bachelor
sea lions frisking on the jetty
outside Golden Gardens.
The barks come steady now
and I wonder if they're cold,
but Baja is just a swim
down the coast
and it's not easy
to leave the salmon, shrimp,
crab, squid, sardines,
smelt, octopus, oysters,
anchovies, starfish, cod,
clams and geoducks behind.
Maybe it's the lunar eclipse
getting under their hides,
and the moon, melting away
yanks their bearings awry.
The foghorn on the buoy begins
its low moan in counterpoint
to the random sea lion arfs
and out along the sound
somewhere between Seattle
and Bainbridge Island
I hear the muffled putt putt putt
of a tugboat hauling a sand barge
into Elliott Bay
and I realize the sea lions
are just barking
to cover up the engines.
---o0o---