Pewter sea, pewter sky
an immense but close
gray pewter glow
flows across glassy water.
Shines and shimmers surround the shell.

To the north, the sound
of breakers on the breakwater,
the cry of a hungry grebe
waiting the hunt: It’s hard
to spot the chum
through bright, blinding mist. Soon

sun will wrench
effulgent fog from water,
a horizon line into wholeness.

I rub my hands, get a grip,
then scull hard and arrow straight
toward the heart of the numinous cloud
up current toward the source
of Ballona Creek.

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