Melodious Manifestation

Photograph by Alex Shapiro

Melodious Manifestation

For Alex:

There is
a lot of water
between
Paradise Cove
and Friday Harbor;
I am certain of this
because I have counted
the waves.

I had this
reoccurring image
of a new home,
on an exotic isle,
in a cottage, cabin, or gingerbread palace,
stoutly constructed
of kelp, driftwood,
and dreams.

Fly north,
the soft southern voices
whispered,
to a sea called Salish
to an island called San Juan—
and it truly was
a winged migration
as my music soared on ahead.

I watched it hide
in the clouds,
gathering mass
speeding supersonic
on its magical flight
to my future archipelago,
where it would mischievously
snuggle into conifer glens,
and mingle with tall towers
of sun-bleached logs
that spoke Japanese, Polynesian, and Inuit—
only to gleefully harmonize
with gray gulls,
snow-crowned eagles,
and black-bottomed crows;
then howling
with red foxes,
and laughing with llamas,
storing up
mysterious melodies,
languid lines,
secret signs,
and naughty notes—
all awaiting
my appearance
on the beautiful beaches
of my future.

Glenn A. Buttkus August 2008