Poems from Bellingham

. . . from 2020-2023

Ruth Creek

This poem is dedicated to Ruth Bader Ginsburg and my mom, Norma Ruth Sommers Kyle. I wrote the first draft after hiking along Ruth Creek in the North Cascade during the pandemic the day Ruth Bader Ginsburg died, September 18, 2020.

Flows down from Ruth Glacier on Ruth Mountain
near Mt. Shuksan and eventually into the Nooksack River.

I know this because I stopped, pulled up my mask, and stepped aside
to let another hiker go by on the Hannagan Pass Trail.

I asked him the name of the stream filling the valley with sound.
He said Ruth Creek and described her flow.

I’d been listening to her sound for most of the day,
the rush of water amplified by the steep rock walls.

On the trail, I remembered Old Jim telling me to find my sound.
I asked how. He said never mind, just listen, and I did.

One day I heard the sound of rushing water, a stream, a river, a creek.
White water. And I knew the sound brought me home.

That was over 40 years ago and I’d forgotten
what it was like to feel home and soothed by her sound.

Today in the midst of COVID-19 and the presidential election,
I remembered that sound as I walked along Ruth Creek,
and remembered too, Ruth was my mother’s middle name.

Reprinted from Whatcom Watch

Hale Passage

From the room where I write this,
I can look west toward Sydney B.C. and
see Hale Passage where the sun sets on the Fall equinox.
There’s Portage Island in front, then Lummi Island,
and in the background the hills and mountains of Orcas Island.
Sometimes there is a trace of the sand bar
between Lummi and the north shore of Bellingham Bay
 — the Lummi Reservation.

It’s an overcast October day.
The rain clouds are mixing it up with the wind and water.
A large white sheen appears as the sun
finds a way through the clouds to play on the water.
And then just as suddenly the Bay is enveloped in cloud and fog.
In another few minutes, the blue hues of the islands
and the far bay shore start to make themselves known again
in this game of hide-n-seek.

Reprinted from Whatcom Watch

Looking Out Onto Bellingham Bay

From South Hill above the Alaska Ferry Terminal
A light wind across the water and the slant of the evening sun
Makes a sparkling iridescent blue under the cirrocumulus clouds

The Lummi Reservation on the right
Across the expanse water, the islands are shades of blue
Portage, Lummi, Orcas, and faintly far away, Saturna

In a story, Love Letter by George Saunders
A grandfather writes a letter to his grandson
About living in a country ruled by a despot like Trump

It’s Saturday evening, 6 PM, the Alaska Ferry is leaving
All Blues is playing on the radio Baby Please Don’t Go
The Checkerboard Lounge version with The Stones and Muddy Waters

Jeanne and I talk about her friend’s sudden death a year ago
3^rd grade teacher, maker of notecards that say things like “As long as the world is turning and spinning, we're gonna get dizzy and we're gonna make mistakes.” ― Mel Brooks

And down below in the garden, a bumble bee is rolling around
Inside a hollyhock flower gathering pollen all over itself
Before flying home to make honey for a long winter

Reprinted from Whatcom Watch.

Raining Peace and Justice

I’m listening to the rain on the walkway
between our house and John’s house next door.

The splat of the drops hitting the cement merge with
the gurgle of the water pouring down the gutters.

Out back, water flows in two narrow streams down the alley
finding its way to Bellingham Bay, the Salish Sea, and the Pacific Ocean.

I ask myself, what if each act of peace and justice
like a raindrop, makes a small noise or impression

And fills Fairhaven, Bellingham, Whatcom County, the State of Washington,
The United States of America with peace and justice?

Reprinted from Whatcom Watch