RIBBON OF ROAD
Not the least hurt by this ribbon of road carved on their sea-foot.
– Robinson Jeffers (“The Coast-Road”)
Fridays bring the caravans of Christians,
SUVs freeway-spaced and paced at sixty
up this snaky road to the pines and cedars
to pray
and low-snow weekends, the growl of mud grips
on decomposing asphalt, armies of colored jeeps
and shiny four-wheel drives drone up-canyon
to play
do not see these hills leaking with pleasure,
every wrinkle running with crystal streams
of rain, three weeks of storms rushing to
a rising, chocolate creek with foam, nor
the naked sycamores, leaves undressed,
white limbs dancing, rosy fingers reaching
for steamy clouds afloat upon the green
oak-studded slopes, black dots of cattle
scattered with all the legends gone before me.
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