My trip odometer was 11034 miles (17757km) since departing home 63 days ago. That’s a lot of driving. And now I’m home. I think I’ll do absolutely nothing for a few days. A vacation to recover from my vacation. Hah.
Here is a tree I saw while taking walk in Ketchikan as Arthur and I waited for the Hollis ferry.
America’s edge beetles downward,
descending continental slopes,
surveying seething waters,
and removing her clothes,
while whales bite her toes;
she tumbles and
grasping at legs, arms,
ready to dismember
the hopes and dreams of calm trees,
which present themselves with aplomb –
even a grave, introspective joy.
Joy’s easy on the jumping ocean:
bits of water weave the chill air,
the great boat’s steel keel grinds, thrusts,
climbs green-gray, kelpy hills
and beats down the beast,
the humped, formless,
her lissome limbs:
to the sea’s suggestions,
embracing the chaotic
frozen surges of lost borders.
The edge undefines America.