A paddling poem
Howe Sound kayaking to Hermit Island
Bald Eagle fishing tiny school below
Our floating human-powered vessels
Bobbing seal heads in swimming warm waters beside my paddle
Mussels waiting for high tides to hide too fragile for feet
Where toes and ankles meet spiders and snakes
feathers and shells that crumble into white salty crackers
I photographed them but couldn't catch the big enough small
The feeling of it all rocking and eroding on the wave's rhythm
Washing ashore then pulling us back
Testing the strength of my arms my head to the muscles that will last
We saw no boats or cars or people
Only the occaisional by-plane puttered above well past noon
In as many days as hours we'd spent out in the ocean
We were back in our city by the bay
A part of traffic by car travelling to get somewhere
Rather than go around somewhere
I smile at a child and his greyhound wearing a designer doggie coat
As we pass a homeless man with rags for clothes
I trace my water source and power lines
Figure out the train, the bus ride
Needing some direct action to compliment meager activism
Pay attention to the variety and types of birds and grasses.
Not handsets and sun glasses.
Not poor drinking water and spraying for virus.
Write some of your thoughts down and read them out loud with high energy like honking at cars or cheering the TV.
Tell somebody.
