* * * * *
Down at the Devil's Churn ancient logs float adrift
in the white roiling foam.
The sea crashes wildly against the jagged rock reefs
into the deep lagoon.
The Dragon's nostrils hiss and spout
in the cool morning mist and seafog.
No sign of sun today, only clouded heavy sea haze
with high cold waves rising up from the darkness
and the sound of seabirds singing lonesome laments.
* * * * *
(c)1997 Thomas Avery
Thomas Avery has lived a few lifetimes and continues to search for a sense of place in this one.
He finds his power spots in the mountains, deserts and coastlines and observes the beauty and the chaos along the way.
He currently resides in Eugene Oregon and has been contemplating his next move.