Roxanne Fawcett  rgfawcettdesign.com

Roxanne Fawcett

Across the sheet of gray glass
lies the Island of green fir trees
Spires reaching up into heaven
catching the wind the weather

blowing in from distant Straits
We live calm within her shadow
like mice in some great hay loft
Cool in the heat Dry in the rain

Even in the wall of densest fog
she still lies there keeping watch
Though I may not see her I know
with certainty her graceful form

The first thing the sun will wash
with golden light upon its waking
The final thing the sun will bathe
in purple roses in its descending

Between us lies a passage carved
by a great glacier in eons long past
deeper than an anchor can fathom
yet not so deep a heart can forget

“Permanent things are what is needful in a poem,
things temporally / 
Of great dimension,
things continually renewed or always present.”
~ Robinson Jeffers


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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11 Responses to Whidbey

  1. Having family living in Langley, I visit Whidbey as often as possible. I feel I am in another world when I am there – calm and refreshed.


  2. Cheryl Ruffing says:

    “Yet not so deep a heart can forget” is an especially lovely line, Peter.


  3. Beautiful poem… wonderful view it must be… green fir trees… inspirational!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. rivrvlogr says:

    We also have in our minds vistas related by those with an eye, an appreciation and a willingness to share.


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