Another wave hits me,
Crashes across my body.
I stagger backwards.
My right foot finds the ocean floor.
I push off from the sand,
And head back out again.
I sit alone in the grey green water.
Great swells flow underneath me.
From Australia the motion comes
That lifts me up towards the coast of California.
On a eight foot plastic island I sit,
Trying to see anything through the murky water.
But there is nothing.
The secrets of the ocean are kept from me.
I can only imagine what lies beneath.
From the shore I must look small,
Though to me I look big.
The people on shore are colorful specks on the tan sand to me.
The ocean looks big to all of us.
The water feet from me parts
As a harbor seal pokes its speckled gray head out.
We contemplate each other for a moment before it returns back into the water.
It must have been less impressed with me than I was with it.
I would have preferred to watch it longer.
No waves have come for a while. I pass the time singing to myself.
Leaning forward, I splash the water on top of my board to keep time.
I wish there was someone to talk to.
Conversation causes the day to slip by faster.
But then I think that is not what I want.
My time in the ocean can go slowly.
It will be over all too soon.
Five brown pelicans swim abreast of each other.
Towards shore they swim until a wave behind them begins to crest and they use the wave's force to propel them into the air.
I wish I could manipulate the waves and wind like a pelican.
Cause currently I'm not doing anything but singing badly.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
bay area may storm
The may storm
On the 25th of May back in 2011, a tornado touched down in Northern California.
In Sonoma, stratus clouds, pinkorange in the fading light, were backdrop to the ominous approach of grey cumulonimbus towers.
At AT&T Park, where earlier in the day a steady rain had fallen, the Giants face off against the Marlins in a steady northeasterly breeze. The crowd quiets as the Florida slugger, who is 3-4, walks to the plate with bases loaded.
Three fallen stellar jay chicks, bright phosphorescent blue in the slanted afternoon light, were watched over by their mother in the tree. For three days they'd been beneath the rose bush, fending for themselves underneath her eye.
A couple I met from Texas watched rain wash away their plans for a wine country Wednesday picnic. They decided to drive up through Glen Ellen and continue on 12 to Jenner. Along their drive the sun came out through a redwood forest.
I walked though the rain on my lunch break to my car. While sitting and reading to pass the time after the morning rush, the sound of rain smattering against the car was soothing after the noisy morning.
On the 25th of May back in 2011, a tornado touched down in Northern California.
In Sonoma, stratus clouds, pinkorange in the fading light, were backdrop to the ominous approach of grey cumulonimbus towers.
At AT&T Park, where earlier in the day a steady rain had fallen, the Giants face off against the Marlins in a steady northeasterly breeze. The crowd quiets as the Florida slugger, who is 3-4, walks to the plate with bases loaded.
Three fallen stellar jay chicks, bright phosphorescent blue in the slanted afternoon light, were watched over by their mother in the tree. For three days they'd been beneath the rose bush, fending for themselves underneath her eye.
A couple I met from Texas watched rain wash away their plans for a wine country Wednesday picnic. They decided to drive up through Glen Ellen and continue on 12 to Jenner. Along their drive the sun came out through a redwood forest.
I walked though the rain on my lunch break to my car. While sitting and reading to pass the time after the morning rush, the sound of rain smattering against the car was soothing after the noisy morning.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
A walk alone
In the woods I walk slowly towards the rustle in the brush.
A spotted towhee picks through dead leaves.
Rust waistcoat beneath black and white striped blazer.
Too many things for which I am responsible.
A person can't think with all these distractions.
The eagle does not feel bad when it kills the squirrel.
It only feels an absence of hunger.
Delicate and powerful,
The stream tumbles down the mountainside.
Alongside the trail water trickles down midnight rocks covered in moss.
A cow bellows.
I stand over barbed wire fence.
Three white mottled brown cows look over their shoulders at me.
They look back the other way in unison.
The rear heifer bellows again,
Returning her gaze to me.
She regards me for a moment and walks past the other two who fall in line behind her.
It's an agitated group that lumbers up the hill towards the barn in the fading daylight.
I imagine my presence saved them.
The mountain lion did not strike
As it had intended to.
It feared exposing itself to man.
I don't know what a man is.
I don't know if it matters.
I hope I matter.
I feel very small walking through the forest.
There is no safe place in the world.
No spot where death cannot find you.
In the forest alone at dusk I feel vulnerable.
In my mind scenes of mountain lion attacks play out.
I wonder how I'd act in that situation.
Would I freeze?
Would I run?
Or would I do what one is supposed to do when confronted with a panther:
Try to make myself seem intimidating.
That is a skill I know a man must possess.
To be able to make himself seem bigger than he actually is.
Dark clouds in the western sky warn of immediate rainfall approaching.
I leave the road and climb up the hill.
Sitting underneath a live oak, I wait out the shower.
A spotted towhee picks through dead leaves.
Rust waistcoat beneath black and white striped blazer.
Too many things for which I am responsible.
A person can't think with all these distractions.
The eagle does not feel bad when it kills the squirrel.
It only feels an absence of hunger.
Delicate and powerful,
The stream tumbles down the mountainside.
Alongside the trail water trickles down midnight rocks covered in moss.
A cow bellows.
I stand over barbed wire fence.
Three white mottled brown cows look over their shoulders at me.
They look back the other way in unison.
The rear heifer bellows again,
Returning her gaze to me.
She regards me for a moment and walks past the other two who fall in line behind her.
It's an agitated group that lumbers up the hill towards the barn in the fading daylight.
I imagine my presence saved them.
The mountain lion did not strike
As it had intended to.
It feared exposing itself to man.
I don't know what a man is.
I don't know if it matters.
I hope I matter.
I feel very small walking through the forest.
There is no safe place in the world.
No spot where death cannot find you.
In the forest alone at dusk I feel vulnerable.
In my mind scenes of mountain lion attacks play out.
I wonder how I'd act in that situation.
Would I freeze?
Would I run?
Or would I do what one is supposed to do when confronted with a panther:
Try to make myself seem intimidating.
That is a skill I know a man must possess.
To be able to make himself seem bigger than he actually is.
Dark clouds in the western sky warn of immediate rainfall approaching.
I leave the road and climb up the hill.
Sitting underneath a live oak, I wait out the shower.
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