Two Lunches and a Puffin
I unwrapped the red and white checkered paper and took a bite; the puffin surfaced. I swallowed; the jellyfish floated. Cobbled rocks rolled down the beach with outgoing waves and they made a song without melody - percussion only. The soft kind of clatter that smoothes edges over years instead of days.
Spruce Kiss
So I was kissing spruce on the rugged, ancient path. Trying to find my footing with a mouth full of conifer. Deciding this was the taste of green, were it to have a flavor. With an extra hint of brine given the inescapable ocean always industrious down below. Taking in the landscape with my eyes and my mouth.
Trickster Ocean
On a recent hiking trip to Newfoundland, I wondered about the trickster on that island. Walking along the easternmost knife edge of the of the North American continent, in almost the precise middle of the trip, standing atop angular rock that fell fifty feet to the cove below, it became clear: it’s the ocean.