Collage of Gratitude

Rounding the corner, Long Beach stretched 
ahead of me,
a brilliant scarlet sun going down 
behind the mountains : Home. 
One dream come true. Tick.

The first time I saw bioluminescence, 
trailing magically behind the boat,
waves aglow with shimmering beauty, 
on a dark midnight boat ride
that first summer in Clayoquot Sound.

The first time a whale surfaced, right beside my boat,
a whoosh, a whoosh, a whoosh,
sounding like the very breath of God,
big old ancient eye looking at me,
thrilling me to my toes,
a dive and she was gone.

Puffins, bobbing jauntily atop the waves 
in their little dinner suits;
sea lions growling on the rocks;
waves, islands, trees, beauty
as far as the eye can see.

Storm winds battering the cabin,
rain lashing the walls,
I snug in bed, and listening.

Eagles, floating on the thermals,
wind-surfing the sky;
waves and sky and sand,
different every day.

People drawn by the power of the ley lines
to this one spot on the planet,
as I was drawn,
to where we most belong.

And this, for a long golden time, was mine.