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A fronte praecipitium a tergo lupi. (In front of you, a precipice. Behind you, wolves.)

Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Senses Poem--Alaskan Love Song--National Poetry Month

The jungle in back of the cannery at Uyak

I'm going to continue my Alaskan Love Song theme because it makes me feel cooler...:o) The Hubs still hasn't summerized the cooling, so we swelter in near or at triple digit weather. So this is a Senses Poem, and you can read about how to do your own here. Meanwhile, ta-daaaaaa:

Me on the day I caught my halibut (but not with this  rod--a jig) This was for catching the bait.

Slickers were for babies. I still wear the red sweatshirt.

A whale passes the dock where I sit reading; it blows and lunges as it feeds.
The misty morning air smells of fish gurry and machine grease.
The gulls scream as they dive after the bits of breakfast roll I toss them.
The boards of the dock shove a splinter through my hand. I drag my gut knife out to cut the splinter away.
I can still taste the hash browns and salmon from the cafeteria.
This is a little bit of Heaven--at least until the work bell rings.

My Alaskan Heaven--with fish guts and exhaustion
© 2017 by H. Linn Murphy


  1. Yikes! Using a gut knife on your splinter? Brave! Reading and watching passing whales does sound like Heaven though. And fresh salmon would be de-lish! Sorry you're in that heat. Lovely love song.

  2. That knife went everywhere with me, including home. I wasn't taking ANY chances on frisky guys with crap morals. It was also pretty sharp and sterilized, so my hand was pretty safe.

  3. Although my checked backpack did open up in the Seattle airport, dumping everything out on the carousel. Yeah. I didn't go back to pick up my unmentionables until every other snickering person was gone. The knife went missing then...sigh.