Beneath unending skies misty sea horizons
edge across these moors along shaggy multicolor carpet
effulgent evergreens offering new growth in
joyful vigor seldom seen, chartreuses pregnant with
promise
sprinkled with tiny brilliant blossoms in wild shades
Voluptuously reminiscent of the most mouthwatering exotic fruit:
berries, kumquat, pomegranate, mango, juicy tangerine.
I dare not name these wild & newly flowering children,
most as unfamiliar to my eye as if they’ve fallen from
some keltic fairy kingdom, some distant outer planet,
or risen surreptitiously from the florid foamy sea.
we trample overgrown & fragrant paths along the breathless edge
overcome with pure elation and appreciation
Until my husband suddenly in a harsh shout wakens me—Watch out!
You’re on
an overhang!—he yells, hands cupped
against the ocean’s nearby roar. I turn and see the giant
golden sculpted cliffs,
streaked mud-red sandstone walls w oddly vertical layers
rise
as if slung there by some ancient capricious continental drift—
denuded by El Nino and the endlessly relentless crash of
waves—
a sandy clay where the most tenacious plant from heaven
could never root or grow
I’m standing on a path surrounded by bright blooms and evidently ready now to fall
unceremoniously into
the dizzying drop below, the vast expanse beneath unsupported
weight held up above eroded earth only by the sheerest land bridge made of weak and rootless silt
and shale sand—all that from the pathway’s vantage point was hidden and invisible to me—
and shale sand—all that from the pathway’s vantage point was hidden and invisible to me—
I quickly stride to safer perch to take the trail closer
in, forsake the risky ledge.
But now we see another couple, these two with a little
yapping dog beleashed
who ceremoniously take the trail we’ve just forsaken and with our arms and voices,
try to warn them—they seem annoyed. As if we’ve trespassed in their reverie.
We point out the sheerness of the cliffs. “We know” the
woman says a bit impatiently.
“this is otter point. Have you googled it? A fascinating
history. We’re moving here.”
Get out! I scream and point. But just like me she cannot
see. She shrugs and walks
Blithely blindly on, her husband at her tail along the
twisting precarious trail.
Great, I defer cheerfully. and welcome to this orphaned
land, all patrons and all matrons
Gratefully received—“Be safe! No accidents!” She flings a painted blonde hair
from her eyes w well manicured and diamond studded hand.
from her eyes w well manicured and diamond studded hand.
“We believe in abundance,” she calls from her suspended
ledge,
smiling and appearing irritated both at once. "NO VICTIMS!"
smiling and appearing irritated both at once. "NO VICTIMS!"
“we believe in only choices—it’s all energy!”
“OK, perhaps I need to hear that!” I hear myself say w/o credibility.
I myself
lose altitude now, and faith and spirit. We tramp back down the trail
in silence, wordless and unaccompanied and heading back to
the
Camper’s parking lot where our old blue grey mommyvan sits modest and serene
comfortingly familiar and alone except for a brand new
Lincoln SUV
w chrome rack and rims, a relative behemoth beast, as strangely odd and menacing
in coldly gleaming pure white presence crouching here as some rare displaced,
in coldly gleaming pure white presence crouching here as some rare displaced,
perhaps endangered polar bear.
That woman by the way -tho not near as old- was almost quite
as large
and possibly as heavy as me.
and possibly as heavy as me.
