Skirting her shore, her firs and a forest
green shawl drapes the island down to
red arbutus shins, the shoals her toes
dip in the squall-kissed sea. In the deep
crevice of her soul, a cove swarms with
minnows like memories through tangles of
kelp and weeds shifting with time. Starfish
cling still to stones like hope in the roil.
With each wave falling down her face
she exhales, casting off detritus gathered
from seasons of storms, then swills another
healing cordial from the inexorable swell.