Winter Solstice 

Here, where shore pines cling
to the cliffs, where waves pound sea stacks
and wind mingles salt spray and rain,
the wrentits wait out winter storms
tucked deep in the thickets of salal, 
coyote brush, and huckleberry.
Pressed close for warmth, 
their two hearts beat in unison,
an ecstasy of feathers.

And far upriver where rain falls
so fast it is its own thicket, 
and Panther Creek swells and spills
into the Elk, the water ouzel flies
underwater and emerges singing,
each note winding higher, dancing
like a violin above the bass
of river tumbled stone.

Joy the wild hearts of the wrentits beat,
Joy illimited sings the water ouzel.
Joy to be bird and not to want spring,
not to want anything but to live here,
on this rocky coast in winter wind and rain.