From Santa Monica on a Sunday in June.
Montana street is alive
With a steady energy
That only Sunday may bring.
People and their dogs pass incessantly by the café.
This must be a slice of heaven if ever there was.
The side streets are hemmed in
By the arching limbs of trees whose names I do not know.
An elated shout rings from a balcony above
Walking with a dog is apt to garner one attention.
The ice in my coffee jostles subtly
With the breeze and hum of activity.
On to downtown!
The pier beckons.
The summer tourists flock to the only landmark they know.
The ocean front is bustling
In a way that is both chaotic and expected.
Moving along the crowded pier
Is an exercise in patience amongst iconic surroundings
While the memories flood in.
A night spent sinking into the sand in deep meditation
Waiting for the Honeymooners.
Wanderings with my camera in tow
Waiting for the desired shot
The lights get brighter with patience
And the art is perfected in the eye of the beholder.
A walk to Pacific Palisades is agreeable.
The midday warmth is not cumbersome to bear.
Then the sun shifts lower, almost precariously
To cast a glow over the coastal mountains.
A bite of coolness makes itself known in the breeze.
The beachgoers still in the water
With their umbrellas laying a day's claim to the sand
Are either unaware or without a care
Of the night steadily moving in
Drawing adventures to a close.
How often do we stop and consider why?
People, places, and events in our lives.
Consideration doesn't always confer an answer.
The waves know this
Crashing on the shore
Blurring the transition between the depths and the sands
A metaphor for life.
Providing unmatched clarity
Amid life's confusing navigations.
Foam laps at my feet.
Afterglow escapes the peaks on the right.
Almost simultaneously
The pier lights up
As if elated that its time has finally come.
The sounds of amusement and thrills mark the true coming of Summer
Ringing clear through the deepening dusk.
It's time to go.
A walk on the beach path at this hour
Passes by in a blur.
The lights of downtown streets
Follow overhead
A fleeting thought of buying a rose
From the man on Santa Monica boulevard.
The city can be lonely too.
A timeless day.
Time well spent loving and exploring
Until we meet again.
From Santa Monica on a Sunday in June.
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