where the writers are
Point Lobos '94

We crossed from our car

to the point

and over the hill

spotted craggy rocks

like old folks’ faces

beaten yet shining beneath the sun

defying the surf

 

Around our feet

along the hillside

facing the sea

silver blue succulents

quietly awaited the fog

 

Black kelp swirled slowly

in China Cove’s jade green water

like seaweed soup

 

White bird in multi-jointed flight

wings spread wide

fluttered quietly

over cove and landscape

 

Sea otters

bobbing in riotous surf

froth decorating their fuzzy heads

calm as silk in the tumult

 

Crimson algae clung to

cypress trees

in gnarled grace

feeding off the brackish mist

 

A deer quietly munched

on the steep hillside

oblivious to our gaze