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by Stephen Cushman
My ocean's the one bad weather blows out to. To face the other, waves all driven by prevailing1 winds, I have to turn my back on my family. May they forgive this westward spree, my losing my head to ravens that ride the thermals in circles, to the shrub-covered bluffs of coastal scrub and chaparral, to coons in the avocado trees; may they not worry that I see signs warning Great White Shark Area, Rutting Elk May Be Aggressive, and Hazardous Surf, or that one night two quick earthquakes burped through the ground; and may they repeat, when I return slightly burned from the land of poppies, all the lessons they ever taught me about odination in the ordinary 点击收听单词发音
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