A golden, powdered light shrouds the firs on Eagle's Nest behind Rainbow Bridge. The soft, iridescent light lands on the boat masts, making them look like transluscent cobwebs.
Tiny toy trucks go over the bridge, powered by the magic mecanism of a child's model track.
On the other side of the channel, the Swinomish houses and their rickety piles of wood, tired furniture,tired trucks, tired yellow dogs, cry out their freedom from the tyranny of Martha Steward design and the like.
The channel has its dark, blue belly full, waiting for the eagles and the fishermen to come and harvest the precious bounty from its entrails.
A hot cup of lemon ginger tea is trickling down my stomach, and I'm waiting for the eagles.