|(Desolate view with bench, Palo Alto Baylands)|
The wind is as light as a silk shirt
Against my skin, neither warm
Nor cool, its sensuous caress comforting
Holding at bay, just outside my memory
The loneliness I feel tonight.
I’m like the last palm
Standing solo in the dunes
Dreaming of the days of groves and springs.
I’m like poor Ishi, alone in the mountains
Family a memory, wandering sick in the trees.
I’m the last dog who was just outside
The gates of Pompeii after
the mountain gave way…
but the dog eventually wanders off
finds a way to live, finds other dogs
forgets Pompeii and his old master.
Ishi comes down to the white man’s town
Resigned to death at their savage hands
and gets put in a museum.
The palm tree feels its roots dry out
Topples one day and finds a new career
In slow decay.
So, as for me
I walk along this ridge
Feel the silk of the wind
Celebrate the scent of sage;
Encourage the sweet darkening of night
Make friends with bats, lizards and stars
And go on
Holding back the loneliness until
Sleep overtakes me and I meet old friends
In the fabric of dreams.