California poetry

feet hang off Glacier Point

          anchor drop in laced boots

from eyes the flat valley paint shape

          brushed with deep greens layered cold gray

water falls mute breaking granite slabs

          boulders like rain drop a million years

color the valley floor ghostly white

Remember

behind a logging truck on 120
     headed west.

Steep elevation drop, two-lane road, black oak, ponderosa pine,
     cedar, fir lined.

riding up right on its ass, wood chips, bark scatter,
     snap on car hood, window, ease off, man
                                                            there's no reason to hurry.

the coast will be there and in the end,
     the ocean.

relax, watch the tree line, cavern curve,
     take in some blue sky.