To a Cabin-I

Only space
for those in need of sea
and sky;
Only room for those in need of infinity.
Fennel
Lupine
Sage
ripen on tumbles of rocks.
Cormorant
King Fisher
Gull
Glide on waves of foam.
Splashing against
a life distilled;
a spare sanctuary—
To a cabin, we must go.

To a Cabin-II

A narrow road:
the gate, the ridge, the bridge
only space,
only room, for those in need of clarity.
Run through
Brush
Bracken
Poppies.

Comb
Cut
Kill
out complexities,
Setting
and
Soothing,
Reminding
and
Replacing
with lessons in simplicity—
Survival.

To a Cabin-III

Every day,
Every night,
chasing sidewalks,
another moon covered in fog
waits,
without fail,
for our return.
Our desire names them:
Whale rock,
Wildflower ridge,
Lower meadow,
Crescent stone,
Vista Boulder—
our meeting place
with windows facing the sea,
where waves have different voices
lurching
against incomparable rocks—
altered,
off-beat—
a variety of sounds—
of rumble,
wheeze,
and whir—
To a cabin, we must go.

To a Cabin-IV

Tonight,
climbing Sea-Scarred boulders isn't enough
Nor is to-tag or foot-fighting with the surf—
sand against salty flesh,
along the scalloped border.
Tonight—
my hands are on fire from
fringed surf, crisp
on knees, thighs and torso.
Tonight,
must be enough to run back to the grain of stone and pebbles,
pressed
into the Sea-Scarred boulder,
only to find you
sinking with me into the silent,
still-warm-from-daylight stone,
your hand gliding along
glistening, numb skin,
resting
and rising
against my chest.

---

Marley Walker, age 15
2009 Finalist
San Francisco, California
Submitted Independently