"We see them

and never see behind them

how flat they are

static

immobile     immovable

cold    calculating

inhuman

 

O the flat platitudes

of the camera!"

 

from Postcard Mountains

Dorothy Livesay

 

Still ( and for a lot of entries, at the Sylvia).

 

I have not decided whether you become

accustomed to this landscape I assume people

can. But for me, whether it is the transition

between land and sea, the different plants,

the fact that in the mornings after high water

the park crew, seen only by the crows, the gulls

and the early morning wanderers, come down with

a big yellow machine to collect the great cedar logs

that have washed up on the shore but I have not

tired of it after several visits. Most of the birds

are not exotic new species instead those I see

are old friends that I greet anew in a strange

landscape that has been reshaped each night thru

the intersection of waves and wind. I find there is

always something new, ducks in the bay, birds on the

rocks and the entire enchanted forest beckoning me,

to explore, to see

 

let's look.

 

 

Down to the seawall.

 

 

Song Sparrow

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Those left on land

watch

for a blue breath blown

from the sky's sighing

sea ripple in still light

sail furling out and flying."

 

                            from Parting

                                 Dorothy Livesay

 

Barrow's Goldeneye

 

Large dead trees in the park are sometimes topped

but left standing for woodpeckers. They can become

gardens.

 

 

Or stages.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

" His irritable hoarse

coughing cry

contradicts the slow    sure

heavy flight

weighted with wisdom

plumbed calm"

 

from Unmusical Bird

               (blue heron)

 

Dorothy Livesay