Poem People: Huckleberries

I'm in the sand and mud, I'm not where I should be

I’ve just returned from about 60 hours of PTO and I’m under the mud and sand. A trip to Cascadia has enchanted me. I didn’t know I liked the ocean. I knew one thing about the ocean—to fear it. Maybe that fear has fueled my romance with the shells and seals, archtyping the nasty temper of the cold sharp landscape met with the soft understanding of human engineering and will to coexist.

So now I’m clawing my way through green and blue fog. A trip up Mount Baker in the rain yielded some very nice swirls of abstract thought alongside swift birds of prey and one black bear.

Baker Hot Springs, a silty and bubbly reward for treacherous roads

Huckleberries 


Potentially alone in outside clothes 
With the scrapers shaken down 
I’m at the trailhead standing still 
A peaceful part of the ground 

Big, blue underside belly 
Preened just so, then pawed 
A glorious drop and tumble 
Landing is a shock, it’s odd

I am fog, tomorrow a river 
I might gush towards the sea 
Dripping blue with the bear
I’m not where I should be 

Huckleberries is about feeling content where you are, then suddenly taken by an undercurrent of uncertainty and unhappiness. The berries are eaten by bears. I am eaten by the regretful past and uncertain future.