January 29*

i curl into curl of shoreline sandstone
             into the ground of chuckanut earth
i open bare face to the sun, warming
             like a preening bird.
the placid wash of coruscate sea water on ears, brain.

i am given all this.
i give nothing of such substance back.

i look, listen, taste.
sit here.
and make this poem, these words.

it is what we do, our job.

*Copyright 2010 by Luther Allen. This poem appears in The View from Lummi Island.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in view from lummi island and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s