They lie a tangled twist of wood.
Drifted on placid Pacific currents
Then propelled by storming seas to this deposit
high on the shore of Point Roberts.
Each log a wooden story
of escape from a jam, of erosion.
Rudderless they sailed
Once sodden bodies now cradled in the sand, dry
And bleached they daily peek at Baker
Watch the sun rise, pass and set.
Once regal trees now sometimes rendered yet again
On canvas to look like sculpture, interlocked and complex.
Soft to touch, to climb and sit upon
They beckon the child, the artist, the hiker,
Enjoy a natural work of art.
© Ron Unruh, July 2010
We cross the border to enter this tiny peninsula several times each year, walk the paths along the waterline, and often sit down among the whitened wood, warm to our bodies on a sunny day. The image is mine, my painting of Baker in the background with the beloved and beautiful logs in the foreground. My friend Barbara Boldt loves and paints the pacific rocky shorelines and I love the wood.