2 Poems
Human Huntress
At the estuary
mistaken as salmon
golden eagle’s talons
prepare to pierce pink-skin
a close encounter
close enough to see
the space between
fallen feathers
barren moor
stretched across her back
black-brown hues and
sharp streaked sunlight.
Tartle
White horses gallop
into the ghost-of-grey
divining the storm.
To gaze at the ocean
is to gaze at the nature of change.
Half of me is the sea.
My water, a story of
holding and letting go.
Blue is never just blue.