It Is Good to Be the Seaweed

It is good to be the seaweed
Floating, drifting
In the crystal,
In the clear Vashon, Puget Waters
In the Summer sparkling,
Gifted shoreline of afternoon,

Albeit knowing,
These jeweled days,
Are few remaining -
No longer stuffing the pockets
Of the young man
That once was,

But rather soon enough
With nostalgia's mirth,
Will come to dance as seaweed
Amongst the ocean lodestones,
Beneath the mountain white
Of spindrifting clouds,
And the ice diamond waters,
Surrounding the glint green
Of Seattle's hillside birth.