The Pacific yawns on the other side of this berm
and the cape anticipates
the power and majesty of an approaching winter storm.

This December has been mild compared to others; hardly any storms; hardly any major change. Yet, I can hear rumblings all night long, a sort of heartbeat of the world pounding at each end of the globe, reminding us we are flotsam and jetsam, day in and day out, beings moved by tides and winds and celestial occurrences.

Port Orford set up a Christmas tree made up of crab pots. December is crab season; more than half of all income from fishing comes from crabbing. Crab pots are being retrieved every night and every day. At times, the big lights on the working boats shine up toward the shore, across this berm, and we, my husband and I sit up in bed and watch the scene all night long.

I have a greater appreciation for the fish brought to our tables by such hard working people.