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whale migration (alt: the art of the serviceberry)

  • 19 hours ago
  • 1 min read


the whales are returning south 

they are coming home, in a sense 

after escaping out of a cold and burdensome winter 

they are returning to warmer waters 

coming into themselves 

i watch them play as they travel south 

it brings wetness to my cheeks 

thinking how they too play and feel and change with the seasons 

i am also traveling south, down the coast 

so far they have been everywhere with me 

i sit and watch, being bathed in peace 

it is a baptism of sorts 

and i feel an extreme oneness envelop me


writing feels pedantic and flamboyant 

but how else to transmute these emotions into another’s being 

and what, if anything, 

is there to do other than breathe sacrament into the mundane and the extraordinary 

art is an homage, a prayer of reciprocity 

to the moments of one’s daily life 


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