This part of California is
a sunlit hill, warm oceans,
nights where you can walk
your dog on sand, throws himself
joyfully into the surf, paddles
out to greet the seals, who are
to him a pack of dogs with flippers.
These nights are not filled with
fear or angst; we are mere mortals
chasing loveliness, immersed, straining
to approach it. The dog and I, we are
but splinters in this wilderness,
transient as flattened rocks I skip
bouncing off the ocean's surface.