|
North Coast
I pinch her two plump rose madder cheeks,
offshore breeze feathers long brunette hair.
Hand in hand, fording a Mendocino terrace,
wavy knee-high grass, sculptured shore pine,
an offshore breeze feathers my desire.
Reddish paintbrush, purple iris dot the grassland,
spring’s life in knee-high grass around shore pine;
we’re called by the whispering shore wash.
Orange paintbrush, purple iris effloresce
wet spring grass brush our jeans.
We’re soothed by whispering shore wash
—rhythm broken only by sea hawk’s keet . . . keet
with spring grass brushing our damp jeans
snagged by burrs and black flecks.
Wash rhythm broken by sea hawk’s keet . . .keet,
we descend to secluded Bowling Ball Beach,
snagged by burrs and black flecks.
Arm in arm, tugging middle age notions,
we stroll remote sands of Bowling Ball Beach
and slip behind debris from a collapsed bluff,
smirking with middle-aged notions.
Bare naked, goosebumped, unashamed
behind debris from a collapsed bluff,
carefully scanning our flesh
bare naked, goosebumped, wide-eyed
alone, under a breeze of decaying slick kelp;
limp, after scanning our shared flesh,
we pinch out 14 plump, dusty rose ticks. |
|
