By Carole Smith

When summer came and we were done
With text books, shoes and math called “fun”
Our little pencil-weary hands
Just ached to touch its soothing sands

Or stare into its tidal pools
And wait for all those slithering schools
Of slippery fins and bulging eyes
So we could shriek, in feigned surprise

We might dam up the mountain stream
That spread its waters fresh and clean
Across the delta, till its cup
Had by the tide been filled back up

It was our most adored retreat
Where at its stoves with friends we’d meet
Watch Easter’s sky to morning turn
And even trees from Christmas burn

No single place gave me more strength
Or taught me balance to the length
As did the lessons life would teach
Upon the logs of Alki Beach!