Salmon in the Bay

Daylight slips away
as the fog rolls in
turning blue sky gray
bringing down the last light
to the ground,
caressing the tops of
towering redwoods,
the curtain comes down
on the last act of day
melting the sky into the ground.

Curiously now gone,
leaving only a promise
of the night not yet here
as the earth turns its back
to the sun.

Ground and the sky are
both one now.
Bright lights on cables
of the bridge arch
their way across
the bay, a giant serpent
silently gliding across
the water through the night.

Chrome sided salmon work their
way underneath it, take no notice
in the cold black darkness of
water turning sweet
from the snow off
of mountains far distant.

Onward they go, toward the
death yet escaped in the salt,
to meet the one they will, and
bring new life to another shore.


© James P. Webb 2011