Rob Gourley

         \\ Whoosh Whoosh   / Whoosh / Whoosh

         While taking a few steps closer to gauge

         the river’s tumult on brushy west bank

         and appraise the gaping angle these two,

         uprooted ponderosas have laid down

         upon the surging Klickitat’s waters,

         I’ve disturbed a sheltered covey of Quail

         who leap out in rapid wingbeats for flight.

        Honey Bee Fatigue

         Found resting where there are no flowers,

         almost daily these warm July weeks,

         on palleted cardboard boxes empty and waiting,

         on a parked car near industrial zone,

         swollen honey bees act dazed, unwilling

         to be nudged off pant leg into renewed flight.

         Shasta daisies are easy enough to find –

         crestfallen, while bee colonies weaken.

         Skinflint’s Synchronous Dream

         Sitting on the O-                      cean’s shoreline boulder,

         my view follows the swells         coming in gracefully

         and busy water flow                  near our bent legs & feet,

         when a mammal’s head             rises within arm’s reach.

         During the instant                    stroking smooth, gray skin

         before it submerges,                 there’s a skull, blowhole, fin –

         believing it’s a Dolphin              where a Seal is more likely.

         Dreamscape’s phantom image  encounter to ponder,

         now we’re awakening                 to our bright-screen gadgets.

         This crumb of confusion           goes unremark’d, until

         Chris shares a report she has just come across.

         A Short-beak’d Dolphin            pod feeds avidly,

         spread five by seven                 miles off Del Mar coast –

         noting the synchrony                elicits our wide grins.

                                      Arrival at Daybreak

                   Wingstrokes                            in sunlit V

                              propelling                 to Bybee

                                           white          Lake.

                                                pel   cans

                                                      i

        Skedaddle

         With its ruckus

         on kitchen windowsill,

         a goofy squirrel

         distracts me from writing

         at the sidelong table.

         It has put a walnut

         (green husk gnawed off)

         into a lower corner

         of the windowframe

         (gap too wide for nutshell) –

         retreats to the steps

         when I tap the pane.

         Safe after a blink,

         it jumps back to sill

         and retrieves the nut,

         before scurrying

         to climb for the trek

         along powerlines

         to next opportuning.