The ocean on the western side,
estuary to the east. Paved road
meanders across the bridge, like
a grandfather with an old story
to unpack. A walking path flanks
the road, gathers broken bits
of mussel shells, deer vertebrae,
alder cones. Because it is spring,
green spruce pollen marks pavement
in galactic splatters. Beard lichen
drapes above your head, whispy
to your fingertips when you stretch.
There are crows, ravens, & kingfishers.
Great blue herons fish the tidal zone
shallows, their beady eyes intent, hunting
darting salmon fry at their feet.
So this is Starrigavin. An afternoon walk
with a bag of oyster crackers in your hand
to feed inquisitive corvidae. You push
into the wind, it lifts your hair to join
fluttering beard moss and you swear,
you swear you could lift your arms,
transformed wings, join the feathered,
Kersten Christianson is a raven-watching, moon-gazing, Alaskan. When not exploring the summer lands and dark winter of the Yukon, she lives in Sitka, Alaska. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing (University of Alaska Anchorage) and recently published her first collection of poetry Something Yet to Be Named (Aldrich Press, 2017). Kersten is the poetry editor of the quarterly journal, Alaska Women Speak www.kerstenchristianson.com