March 15: “California Coast”

Not in small painted towns whose color rips
The solitude of shores kelp-strung and gray,
Not in La Jolla, Carmel, Monterey,
Your beauty lies — minxes with rouge-smeared lips;
Not along wharf lines where a city dips
Its dirty fingers in the pile-split spray —
San Pedro, Newport, San Francisco Bay —
Scumming your waters with the bilge of ships:

Yours is a torn and wistful beauty, born
On lonely beaches when the tide is low —
Fog tangled in the marsh-grass… a forlorn
Blue heron wading in the afterglow…
Dull silver lapping on a wet sand-bar…
And lost wings circling near a ghost-white star.

— Doris Caldwell


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