I ride the spine of
Point Reyes peninsula –
north – to Lighthouse Point.
Craggy cliffs spill to the sea –
waterfalls of creeds
hardened to the core.
Peppered here and there
with clumps of greenery,
summer wheaten grass
spreads across the hillsides
giving hint of winter rains to come.
A herd of elk
pose across the crest,
their pointed antlers
spaced and lined like fence posts in a row –
elders – watching from above
their bugle call – lost to me.

Lost in the noise of seeking,
I’m drawn to a new path
squiggling west to east,
a dangerous road, with old vistas
left behind and deep drop off ravines –
no shoulder to prevent a fall.
Dense stands of redwoods
blur my vision.
Sparkling spots filter through
tall California Laurel
spattering the road with mystic eyes.
Mt. Tamalpais watersheds
gather in the gulley –
giant fonts offering new life
beyond the dam.