No Words

No Words

Few words are
needed
to describe
the utter joy
of hopping
in a kayak
on a bright sunny day,
and paddling
for miles
from island to island
in this never-ending
archipelago
of tree-strewn gems.

Still fewer words
can be mustered
to express the awe
of having such
an experience
in one’s own
backyard.

I humbly offer
this poetic log
of how I ditched
all my work
and spent Thursday
floating
on the Salish Sea.

It’s stunning
remoteness
is not remotely
akin
to how I will spend
this coming Thursday
awash in a sea
of concrete
and humans;
back
on that other small island
I visit
from time to time;
Manhattan.

But no matter,
for today
I can glide past
a riot of wildflowers
in every meadow,
and only occasional
signs of life
in these uninhabited
coves—
past Arbutus trees,
aka Pacific Madrone,
which are
island treasures,
with their incredible bark
so arbeautiful—
paddling quietly
under thick conifer branches
heavily laden with
eagles;
and they are
E Pluribus Enormous;
Oh Lord,
I tell you
there are tons
of these beauties
everywhere
on my islands.

Alex Shapiro May 2008