CHINA COVE

It does not matter what I want.

Thy will is passage clear,

And though my eye still tries to vaunt,

The path is grounded here.

Bird Island southward runs to stairs,

Descending to a beach

Of layered caving aqua waves,

Arriving out of reach.

The day returns for me to kneel

On Gibson’s next-door shore.

It doesn’t matter what I need,

The call to thank is more.

I left an abalone shard

As offer for the sea.

The ocean answered with a breeze,

A harbor for my plea.

Is every scene a hidden verse?

Is every view a poem?

Is every sight a miracle?

Is every sky a home?

Does every moment have a song?

Does every word have time?

Does nature listen every day

To my attempt at rhyme?

The path to China Cove is closed,

But not the way to see

The beauty of the hand of God

He sends from life to me.

(Point Lobos, California
May 23, 2008, Friday. CLH)