Salmon Creek flowed past us, past the dune grass,
past the egrets and the reeds, but slowly,
it flowed deeply and slowly, like a meditation, 
like a secret longing, it flowed so darkly 
toward the ocean, which heaved its great blue body
at the shore. Wild ducks flew over the cottage,
calling to one another and to us, urgent cries 
to follow them over the dunes and the water, 
beyond the crests of lion-colored hills.
Over our heads in the dark, in the night,
the unseen Orionids flung themselves
through the atmosphere; a hail of stars
fell over the ocean as we lay sleeping
in our borrowed beds.

Bio: Carolyn Miller