Equinox

Equinox

Hello
Home,
of Spring
Dear Equinox,
here you are and here we are.
and still— not the winter chill we are used to 
mornings of frozen grass
and wet feet
Spring. You’re here
And it almost tastes of summer
the hills are soon to brown
zucchini have germinated in the fields
the soil warm as if it were late May or June
Spring
I greet you with the warmth of green things under my tongue
ready to take root
and I greet you with trepidation
walking and turning 
humming
tapping my fingers together 
on a friends shoulder
or the greenhouse glass
questions
worries
and thoughts
is this enough
I buy drip irrigation parts
and the radio plays a program, “One more year of water for California.”
and it is not new 
news
but what are we doing?

A sea lion out on the rocks
stretching it’s head upward
rocky out crop, edge of Stinson Beach
on closer look, we notice the sea lion, her rib bones and her, is it collar bone, sticking out under her skin. starving?
I look at her and think 
what are we doing to the ocean
the vast limitless ocean

My Dad, and I, we walk back home. Him with his paper bag, collecting trash.

three dirty diapers, plastic gun clips he tells me wash up here all the way from the Delta, the duck hunters
plastic bottle caps too many to count
kids toys buried in the sand
a tennis shoe, almost looks new, except it was probably washed out to sea and dragged back in again
plastic bags, styrofoam.
My Dad can’t take his eyes off the sand.
Funny for this surfer dude. Who used to only look out at the waves. Maybe it’s old age. but also the same obsessed determination.
and there’s so much you realize, trash, when you start picking it up.

Spring
may we all find home
a home
a safe place

Spring
may I step lightly 
and whisper prayers
for sometimes
right now at least
it seems right
because I don’t have any other thought of what to do

prayer
home
kindness
lightness 
warmth

Spring
another year comes around
everything a bit early maybe
the flowers
the birds?
quietly we turn
without taking notice
the cool light of evening
quietly we turn
the warm light of spring
quietly we turn
hands pressed to the ground
spring
traffic sounds of Lake Merritt
street lamps
whistling lights
my Great Aunt Lucile reminds me
Take care
take care
Remember to take care