A
lone
feral
child blossomed
along Hood Canal's
shore where otters and sealions
climbed floating pontoons that rolled with the tides, whistling
into the night serenading
stars around the full
moon rising
domains
staked
with
growls and
barks; the child
would mimic noisy,
wild, semi-aquatic mammals
and would howl at solar bodies that blinded by day
dazzled at night; he'd catch coho
salmon, eat pink flesh
and tease bald
eagles
that
soared
upon
wind currents
waiting for scraps tossed
upon the sand—a ritual
observed with reverence and decorum ere swimming
in the fjord, floating on his back
like a sea beaver
tossing rocks
cracking
sea
shells.