Seattle in June

June awakens with a whisper here,

Where firs stand tall, and skies grow clear.

The clouds, like dancers dressed in white,

Spill stories on the winds of light.

A sapphire dome spans overhead,

With brushstrokes, heaven’s fingers spread.

Each streak a sigh, a drifting dream,

Above the pine-tipped, emerald seam.

The air is hushed, yet full of song

A robin’s call, the breeze along

The sunlit trails and forest beds

Where fern and flower lift their heads.

No drizzle, no gray curtain drawn

Just light that spills from early dawn,

Bathing the Sound, the city’s grace,

In nature’s gentle, warm embrace.

This is Seattle, shy yet bold,

In June, she sheds her misty hold

Revealing skies so wildly blue,

They seem to whisper back to you.

So breathe it in, this fleeting hour,

This rare and sunlit, blooming power.

For beauty here is soft and shy,

Like painted clouds in a sapphire sky.

Lake Crescent. I’d heard the stories — a clear lake was like glass, a mirror for the mountains. When we arrived, the water was still blue-green, with the peaks towering around it like ancient guardians.

Rialto Beach was a different world — dark sand, driftwood, and tide pools glowing with tiny, scuttling creatures.