At Point Pinole (Not Haiku)

eucalyptus

wild fennel 

dirt

dust 

all that dead grass 

wind &

the Bay --

she plods slowly, smelling them all

& sometimes stooping as far down as she can

to pick & eat a ripe blackberry off the brambles. 

On Clark Boas Trail

Plodding uphill--

no sound but wind, &

crunching footfalls.

More from awhile ago

All the fog!
There's a city back there,
but you'd never know.

-------------

Sub par tacos
and no Horchata!
Cold wind through the open door....
Disappointment mounts
with every bite.

--------------

He hurries down hill,
the red glow of his cigarette
marking his speed.

--------------

Gray green tide creeps in.
The white gull flies away--
now I am alone.

20 Weeks Ago

Out the window,
trees wave at each other
in the cold wind.

Pulling weeds at dusk...

Pulling weeds at dusk --
a tiny lizard escapes
the next handful.


Pulling weeds at dusk --
winds blow clouds --
white crescent moon.


Pulling weeds at dusk,
I smile at small lizards
who scurry away.

From Last Night

At dusk,
birdsong and warm wind--
and the smell of tacos. 


In the stifling room,
voices talk of freedom,
hope, love... And the heat.


Evergreen trees
shake gently in the breeze,
swaying to birdsong. 

And Another!

Sweet, seedy figs bridge
this hot Indian Summer with 
cool, windy, cold Fall.

5/27/14

Soaring in hot wind,
a vulture gracefully flies, 
looking for corpses.

5/4/14

Cool of the evening--
dragonfly stops on a leaf
waving in the wind.

Brown Greens

Brown greens: branches sway
in wind’s gusts, stretching up to
meet Fall’s first hard rain.

Perfect

My feet in warm sand,
wind at the side of my face;
crane drying its wings.