Olys and the Hood

Across the sparkling water
You loom, high and far,
brilliant with sunlight
or moody with clouds.

Pale, lofty heights and shaggy hills,
Ever-changing faces,
with each rain you wear away,
running to the Canal.

It carries you out,
slowly ebbing,
then creeps back and rises
smug and full.

A sudden shove,
you inch skyward -
Winning the race
or evening the score?

(In western Washington state, the beautiful Hood Canal lies at the foot of the mighty Olympic mountains. Contrary to its name, the Hood is not man-made, but a long, fish hook-shaped fjord which carries salt water inland from the Strait of Juan de Fuca and Puget Sound. Twice each day its tides carry water, and whatever's in it, in and out of this pristine area. Erosion is an on-going process, but just off the coast plate tectonics are at work, ever so slowly raising the mountians higher.)