This island has its secrets
and doesn’t always say yes.
The hesitant pines
and judgmental cedars
blanket their disapproval
for the capricious nature
of the tides by swaying
in unison–thousands of years
worth of tree-rings echoing
catcalls upon the wind.

The osprey flies in circles
with a pair of eagles
riding currents of air
above currents of water.

The most recent batch of
driftwood is contemplative
and gently hypothesizes
until the tide comes in
to collect what it once
deposited & disperse it elsewhere.
(When the tide returns, the sea may finally exhale.)

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