The Windy Peninsula

September 7, 2017

Palos Verdes


The Windy Peninsula


Where I began between an eclipse and full moon

 and the peacocks at dawn did not sound very much

    like peacocks because, well,

       who’s ever heard a peacock?


Where the coyotes run in the canyons,

   while dogs fetch in the fields

      and every sound from street level

          is diffused by light and dreams


Here, I awoke to a racoon in the garbage,

   again to children on the swings,

      at last to fireflies, whose blinks

        I mistook for my own


Here, the pines drop like rain,

    and we sweep, sleep up the night

       for the day to burst out in sun


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