Combing

Combing, combing,
combing as I look for your return.
At the calm seaside
I pray for a good wind
to fill your sails
and bring you safely home.
Combing, combing,
combing as I look for your return.
At the proud hilltop
I pray for clear skies
to smooth your flight
and bring you swiftly home.
Combing, combing,
combing as I look for your return.
At the dramatic gorge
I pray for a cool stillness
to offer your train no resistance
and bring you, smiling, home.
12/10/02

Do I have to scream?

Do I have to scream
Or cry?
Yes, I need
To cultivate
Green life.
I’ll never
Have a baby.
So I have
Gardens–
Veggies, flowers,
Ferns.
I experiment
With roses,
Fruit trees, vines,
and other “exotica.”
I need to.Do I have to scream
Or cry?
Yes, I need
To cultivate
Human life.
I’ll never have
A baby.
So I have
Children one year at a time–
Not kindergarten,
But third and fourth grade
Gardens.
I practice
With both the
Domesticated and
Wild varieties and
All that range between.
I need to.
4/2/04

Elation

Elation!
How long since I’ve felt elation?
Still I know it.
How to enhance and lengthen this
Electricity in my bones?
Get off the freeway.
Take winding two-lane Carmel Valley Road
To a place that makes my heart sing like no other:
101’s dipping smile between Torrey Pines Beach
and Del Mar’s gateway.
Gotta backtrack south to get the primo view:
Expansive sandy beach, lifeguard tower, swimmers and umbrellas and beachballs splashing colors all over shore and sea,
Those ruggedly handsome cliffs crowned with rare torreys.
Up to the mesa, the famed golf course and Inn.
Pop a Uey to travel down the grin in reverse:
Oh! That classic thirties bridge with the train gliding under, and that glorious Pacific playground again.
Ah, the greens and blues and purples jeweled in sun-sparkles and subdued in frothy white caps, all in churning in continuous mellifluous motion.
The adventurous melodies kick in the joy of life in me.

A California girl, of course I’d be one to take such joy in gliding on an asphalt highway I’ve thrilled in since always.
Once I lived in Japan. There I felt these same body tingles of pure elation as I rode an old ten-speed past hidden homes and family shrines and rice fields with dragonflies and wind providing the gentle motion.
In Japan, I dreamed of the freedom behind the wheel, the wind blowing my hair and the salt air filling my being, cruising the smile, surely a touchstone to return to
and know the world is right
and we are here to love it.