OPEN INVITATION

                                                                       —as we part
                                     the foam that wind scatters,
                                     and leave our footprints behind
                                     to fill with brine and disappear.
                                               – Quinton Duval (“Valentine”)

Somewhere on the beach we leave ourselves.
Even our claw marks in the mountain’s rock
fade with time as traces only we remember

as important. The coast is clear as Sierra skies
after a storm. The slate is clean, interrupted only
by a passenger jet, its red contrail waning.

I remind myself to make each moment rich,
moving slowly to see more than the end
of an accomplished life. Forget the colorful

opinions clinging to the limbs of trees,
forget the political cacophony as just another
man’s pastime. Come walk a ways with me.