Land’s end Pacific rim sun’s dip
over curling wave thrash.
Onshore cold evening breeze
with birds aflutter, chasing
through bent shore pines.
Thrash, curl, chase, bend –
as dreams I have had
waking on a washed horizon
scratched by wave plumes
thrown up as sheets on a line
falling into the golden surf,
Yachats, Oregon – Pentecost, June 4, 2017
Photo is my own, north of Yachats, Oregon, June 2, 2017.
In Cascadia 
Loved the sounds in this poem – read it out loud to get a good feel of it. Great piece!
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Such a good compliment. Many thanks!
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For a moment I thought you were writing about Finisterre in Spain, the end of the Camino de Santiago. Regardless, a lovely image.
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Thanks, Susanne. We were staying at a home just off the beach. The house directly on the bluff was named Finisterre. It suddenly occurred to me what it meant.
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