Monday, September 23, 2019

Golden Hour Revisited

Voluptuous sky

Three bodacious bold gold palm trunks, naked across the street

Cooper's hawk on the wire for a minute...  off for smaller birds or voles

Greens of fern, acacia, and pine go vwubba, vwubba in this, the Golden Hour

Charcoal clouds glide behind in peacock breast blue sky.

Sunday dinner on the front stoop calms and fortifies.

Feet bare on Mother Earth let us soak in the goodness of her.

Patchamama. Gaia. Turtle Island. California. Oakland. Chabot Park. This home. This man. This me.

End of summer. Equinox hours.

Balance a raw egg on its end this day of all days

Bring balance back to all

Even the president's men cannot pull me down this day

I. am. going. to. enjoy. this. golden hour. period.

When in Rome, I see golden light the same as Northern California's

When in Oakland, I see hills so pettable they turn their bellies skyward to be scritch-scratched

Wild turkeys galavant in gangs of twenty or thirty, giving the scratch dance honors to the hills

Hummers come to vvvvrrrrrrrrtttt vvvvvvvvvvrrrrrrrrrrrrttttt over the sweet water feeder.

One just-right twig on the plum tree, next to the red glass bottle becomes the park bench in the sky

Anna's humming birds take turns sitting and admiring the view and...

(ya can't fool me, hummers), get all territorial about "MY feeder. MY branch!"

Gold palm trunks loosing vibrancy, fade to tans, browns, grays

Charcoal cloud streaks turn salmony, lit from below.

Does color tickle the puffs of formerly white & gray?

Supper is et and tea is a boilin'

When the sun drops into the sea will it be a boilin' too?

Silver expanse of bay outlined in purple land spits

Square bridge over untroubled water

Too rich to eat all I see...

Save some beauty for another day

Tummy full

Overflowing gratitude

Sunset's a grace


No comments:

Post a Comment