Driving Home from Petaluma

Mount Tam is a beautiful woman.

Sodden cloak shrugged, pooled and still

isolates islands adrift in the mist

accentuates curves that thrill.

Luminescent fish-scale clouds

brightly paint the sky

sunlight's warmth, tangible hope

pulse electric blue on white.

Sweeps of birds flash billowing

like sheets hung out in spring.

Syncopated dance whips wild

waves black then silvered wings.

Miles of mud flats roll away

flecked white with herons' grace,

splashed golden here and there with sun

to reach San Pablo Bay.

In the east, Diablo rises

gazing west each day,

as lovely Tamalpais

lets her fog just slip away.

poem & photo © 2014