SEQUOIA IN JANUARY

Mountain ranges always arrest me

Like long arms lunging

To gather me in and make me a prisoner.

So Sequoia was a natural

From the second I saw

Far enough
To take in the horizons –

Multi-faceted and sliced into slivers.

I became a happy hostage.

Icy wet tarmacadam

Defined the trip to the top,

As I swerved and swayed into the fog,

Driving my hope to break into clear air.

Then I turned to see the vapour from above:

Frosty pillows bulging

Like bumpy billowed binding -

As though I could roll across

If I was weightless –

Gleaming in the afterglow of a subdued sun

With neither time nor energy

To waste on heat.

The crags and crevices of steep black slopes

Stored sparkling snow in creamy caches,

Sending a shiver down my spine,

Reminding me of other alpine scenes,

Several continents

And many decades of memory away.

But Sequoia’s peaks

Protested their predestined paucity

In a blatant blast of biased

But plausibly prescient pleading.

Soon all around me were the giants -

Red and green and beyond big -

Their flared feet fixed

In the frosty flood of flurries

And set to stay stable as sedentary centurions

Or perhaps much, much longer.

Indifferent grey shade chilled the air,

Freezing precarious public paths

Made perilous by prints of frivolous feet.

Back down in the dampness of the misty air,

A sculpted coyote skulked and scarpered,

Its face full of something like guilt –

Culpability chiselled into its jawline -

Bashful blame blinking in its eyes –

Or perhaps it was facetious innocence.

Who knows how predators

Express such practical pretences?

At the bottom the stream

Roared into the town –

One of three rivers rushing loud -

As if already swelled by winter’s remnants.

Tourists ignored the frozen air

And snacked on ice cream.

Then they got warm by smoky fires

And sampled pizzas and tostadas,

Sipping sweet zinfandel from another valley.

NEXT TIME

Once I thought

That next time

There would be no pain for you.

We would take in deep draughts

Of our very own togetherness

And spend more time

To savor each moment

And rise fulfilled

And unhurried.

I thought we had

The rest of our lives

To learn

How to please each other.

I thought the years

Stretched out ahead of us.

I thought our passion

Was nothing

But the very beginning

And the end was too far away

To know.

But we were destined

To be lovers truly

For just one fiery summer’s evening  –

Fleeting minutes of ecstasy

Underpinned by adoration,

And, of course, our love.

Damned even though

We thought

We had shattered

All the barriers

In front of us;

Doomed even though

We knew so well

That we were made

For each other –

Different but devoted.

MALIBU SUNSET

Only an hour ago sky
                     was just sky –

If there can be mere sky
                     in that rich view –

But now as red sun scorches molten sea:

A new palette makes blue much more than blue.

Shadows stretch far behind to make me tall

But my wide eyes focus on dark shimmers

Out there, distant, way past shore’s crashing break,

Hidden secret from wet splashing swimmers.

Surfers see no more than white topped waves’ curves

They miss the grand art fair beyond creamed crests:

Edges glitter purple – sea, sky alike -

Reflected on beaming faces and chests.

Solar redness makes me expect sizzles -

That never come so far as I can tell -

Then, as if to temper my disbelief,

A single gleam pricks through the dimmest dell.

More needle points soon dot the western glade

Paler than evening’s star, dazzling goddess,

Glowing and glistening she will always be,

While the others discharge a cool caress.

FLOTSAM

Choppy turquoise, frothy bright white
                                               seascapes -

Blistered sun low - cloudy pink red –

Sketching crass corrugated horizons -

Rolling sand hills housed an old surf club’s shed.

Seagulls active - issued harsh shrieks and shrills -

But I had peace and felt no need to stir.

Salty, fishy smells mixed with spiced perfume

On each recurring wind gust messaged her.

My muse had led me to a strange shoreline:

Stretching long and gold and quite new to me;

And we sat at the rippled water’s edge

Within the reach of lapping, soothing sea.

She wrapped herself around me close behind -

So my head could fall back upon her breast –

And she fingered my hair, stroked my temples,

Rendering my damaged heart sweetly blessed.

Her teasing whispers reached my eager ears -

Sliding like silk from Esfahani rugs –

Filling head, heart and loins with glad desire –

Tingling spine and shoulders to cheerful shrugs.

My hands drew line patterns on her smooth legs

That held me safe like arms on a kind chair;

But not so firm that I could not turn ‘round

And please her with each kiss I had to share.

Dreaming we dozed and watched the waxing tide

And the setting sun’s warmth drained right away.

Then we, inspired by fast rising passions,

Became flotsam, swept up in our love’s bay.