Wednesday, March 23, 2016

Wearing My Green Like Heaven

The Feast of Saint Patrick

After years of drought
The splendor of marsh ponds
 Run-off of the rains of El Nino

The Flaneur gone green on the cusp of Spring
on St Patrick's Day, the eye of Lent

Adventure started on College Avenue

A lovely vegetable garden for students 
Claremont Junior High School

A row of redwoods 
stand in insurgent grass
Noble survivors

Fairly constant traffic miasma
Toxic gas station on the site for decades,
Gone green for the while

I stopped for coffee beans
and had a strong cup of java,
Then waited under a tree
Where the avenue meets campus
For the bus Marina-bound

In no time I was down here
At the grassland nature preserve
 A wonder of reclaimed habitat

A sturdy fence keeps humans from penetrating
This realm of animals and plants,
Dogs are even banned
From the fenced-in trail

I'm close enough
To feel the aquatic presence
So deep in its peace

California poppies
Vanguard of the Spring

A network of momentary lakes
So stirring after visiting here
During the searing drought

 I came in with the arrow
My hike will follow the perimeter
Of that Northern rhombus
and back out

  Ah California
Just add water
It becomes verdant and fecund


Ach, a soggy bog
It doesn't this old Irishman's heart good

Crossroads of the trails
I met a leprechaun here once,
I've save the tale for me memoirs

Landscape and my mind,
No distinction

Obscured by time

I stopped at a picnic near here
For my marine lunch
Sardines, pumpernickel with almond butter,
A snappy fresh carrot,
Content in my solitude

The next table on was already spoken for
A Raven couple claimed it first

We didn't have ravens here
Until only a few years back

Not some common crow
These are indeed ravens

When I stopped near him
Him made himself look bigger,

Looks like the husband and kids
Might have come second, 
I'm seeking a bench myself

Yellow flowers in the grass,
Looking out toward El Cerrito
Birthplace of Credence Clearwater Revival
The great rock and roller John Fogarty
There's the other raven

An inviting spot but
Not quite what I had in mind

Another congenial bench
With its own circle of stones

Yellow sure is yellow

Ah there's the spot
A bench with my name on it
Where I always wind up

The magnificent San Francisco bay
The city and the Golden Gate
All a-sparkle under mild air

Off northward
Marin and Mount Tamalapais
Big sky mind

Last year's withered vegetation 
Dry and unyielding
They should have burned it here
An intrepid kayak the sole boat

The grass where I lie down
So soft and mild
I was briefly asleep

On the way out again
A lone fellow on the hillside
Flying his model airplane
As the shamrock moon
Rises behind him
in vast quietude

17 March 2016


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