Neck Point memories

Here in paradise we walk for miles
and never see a single soul or car;
our world consists of evergreens
and the seagull’s cry;
the lap of waves, and horizons
etched with the graceful curves
of madrona trees
and distant islands.
A pine cone falls
to land undamaged
in the grass at my feet:
an invitation to look up
and breathe the benevolent sky.