No cloud touches the sky.
Instead of summer fog and driving wind, the Bering Sea gives diamonds.
Pup-sized, sun-bleached seal scapula lies at the top edge of the cliff.
Bones go to the earth
To the sea
To the animals and birds
To the plants
Death, rebirth, death again, birth again
Puffins dive, orange feet glowing underwater, sleek bodies gliding down, down for 38… 28… 27… Two puffins, two quick breaths on the surface, then diving together again.
Fur seals roar, moan, moo, growl, huff. Surf breaks over shining rocks, rhythm and motion. Crested auklets bark. Kittiwakes squeak. A fox yips five times, high lonesome sound. Five more. Five again.
Trident fish processing plant rumbles diesel. Airliner high up crosses over, Hong Kong to Anchorage.
Bumble bee, fly, spider travel a slower speed, a different dimension. Fox fur and feather float on the silent air currents.
Kelp is washed by the waves and warmed in the sun, iodine fragrance-of-the-sea. A whiff of guano drifts from the seabird cliffs. Foxes leave traces of musk and trouble as they travel along secret lines. Lupine, that sweet, wild pea, flowers with abandon.
Sea salt caresses all.