Indian River

Full of Small Salmon

Guardian of Totem Park

Cedar Log for Totem

Totem Repair

SITKA
Chopped hard from the heart of history,
Breath-mist, wet wooden faces stare,
Strength of the totem’s mystery the reds, greens and blues Shimmer.
Far away faces, carved fine with the sharpest knives,
Wives of the raven’s words, reflections swirling in
a tidal pool.
A moonlit bath, boats rocking in infant assurance, creak
Words of camaraderie to one another as they,
Mast arms raised in surrender,
Rub their shoulders against the mooring timbers
Size swallowed up in vastness,
Stern mountains standing ankle deep in ocean,
Host weary clouds, stabbed by green cedar fingers,
Swaying as they grab for a fist full of stars, Sitka.
Sonny Phillips

Max the Dog

Devil's Club

Boats rocking with the Tide

Good Buddies