Poem for Wednesday and Ballard Locks

This Is Why the Relationship Might Work 

By Susan Rich 

Because the call of shorebirds wakes me

and this morning I watched a seagull

sunbathe on a wine-colored Camaro.

Because the air offers up notes of saltwater

and scrub rose whenever I walk out the door

even if I’m on the way to the grocery store.

Because the wine, because Walla Walla—

and Hendrix. Because we travel

by ferry and the world’s longest floating bridge.

Because flocks of joggers along Alki Beach

nod a quick hello like gold finches

keeping apace to the beat of black wings.

Because tumbleweed and tulip—

fish ladder and the Looff Carousel—

because we have declared an official oyster.

Because hemlock, because humans who plant

sungold tomatoes and build boats from cedar and oak

Because I picked you from all 50 states

to be my valentine of sweet

onions and jazz apples. Because the rain.

Because someone chose a piece of petrified wood

for the state gem—and because without

the journey out West, we would never have met.

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I had my usual social Wednesday -- chat with my high school friends Hildy and Kay in the morning, watching the second half of Deadpool and Wolverine with Kristen and Laurie in the afternoon -- around lunch, chores, and a walk to the park. The temperature reached 40 degrees by then, but it set a record low in the morning and is 28 now going down into the teens again; the swans were out for a while nonetheless. 

The Masked Singer is back, and while I know it's brain-rotting nonsense, it's easier to swallow than looking at the news. I want to know if the Ant could be Eliza Dushku though the internet thinks maybe Constance Wu. We caught up on Animal Control, and now we're watching the House with the teenage stalker, which feels wildly dated even compared to the XY chromosome woman. Winter at the Ballard Locks: