From this once wild place we gaze
south, the bay soft
with sea fog
and slow moving clouds.
A lone barge, far-off
as a plane,
plies its silent route
to port, the city
a cut-out, pastel and unreal
from this windswept, golden hill.
From this once wild place we gaze
south, the bay soft
with sea fog
and slow moving clouds.
A lone barge, far-off
as a plane,
plies its silent route
to port, the city
a cut-out, pastel and unreal
from this windswept, golden hill.
This poem will be published in forthcoming promotional materials put out by the city of Tiburon, California, including a magazine and a set of cards.