Poet's crossing at Pillar Point


You make your choice by choosing you.
In half light, not white, not gray
your own castaway grips one oar
itself lashed tight to open boat
trapped by strait and rocky shore.
No easy choice, this one of foam

waves tipping white, milked-out coast--
alabaster dashed on stone.
Pulse thumps time to brine, to spray.
Steers its own circuitous route.
Drunken critics stagger bluffs,
note milky struggle, cheer your craft

spinning mad outside the surf. They
don't know it's you, but if they do
prefer Juan de Fucan wind
to foundered dinghy, one choked oar.
Circle widening, white wake in foam
choice or choosing: surf or stone.


Timothy Pilgrim