Warning: Trying to access array offset on value of type bool in /home/customer/www/panoramajournal.org/public_html/wp-content/plugins/divi-machine/includes/modules/ACFItem/ACFItem.php on line 3126
Tide has gone out
leaving the Salmon River but a muddy trough.
Where river mud meets beach sand at
Icy Strait the ground is white with gulls.
Five thousand glaucous-winged & ten thousand
herring gulls. Seventy soot-coated crows.
I can hear them from this far away.
Whatever it is they are feeding on—sand Lance,
shrimp, tiny crab, stranded mussels or barnacles–
it is another Alaska gold rush.
I am in an aluminium skiff that, like me,
was built in Minnesota.
I am jigging for halibut.
They come in three sizes—chickens, slabs
and barn doors. A chicken will do.
No one pays me any mind.
Now a boat at the dock cranks up the sound system.
Country-western CDs for some redneck
gone sailor. Tennessee music joined by a thousand
gulls suddenly aloft, screaming in protest or singing along.