Light shaving the top of Seward Park like the handsome half of a man's face
Seagulls caught by late-evening yellow-gold, sparks flying off the flint of Mt. Rainier, bright as airplanes
Contrails and clouds running wild horses to the western sun out from the one dark fulcrum of Issaquah
I-90 over the waters floating cars on its arced belly like breaths or spirits
Whole sky cinching like a glad girl about to see her father
Sweet smells in the wind hint shouts of banana, pineapple, mango---
Who are you what have I done to be here---
Your glory is unsurpassed
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