The Big Sur

August poetry new number one.

Big Sur.

A L.A girl is dancing alone with the Big Sur sea and the moon half moon is lighting up the night for her. She wanted a refuge from the madness of the city and she was tired of people near her, talking double talk always. She had fortified her heart and she spoke little now. She had befriended the sea and the kind surfers.

She didn't like her L.A no-more and San Francisco, too many people now.  She loved Monterey and Santa Cruz, still had cool people who were honest and fun to be with.

She hated people stuck on themselves and she loved conversation about poetry and the ancient writers. We would load my truck-up with sweet wines, sleeping bags and some easy to food to maintain. We would find the Big Sur and I adored when she danced with the powerful waves.

She told on July night. You and me, we fall in love with Big Sur, every weekend for many months. Someday we will buy some property by the River Inn. I will paint the forest, the Big Sur sea and the faces of people visiting the Big Sur. You will finally finish your books needing ending and we will drink the red wine. We won't complain no-more.

I went to her dancing with the Pfeiffer beach sea and she took my hands. We danced alone on the quiet beach and I told her.  I befriended you hitch hiking to Big Sur in the Early Spring. You made me smile and we understood. Life is simple. We need the sea near, we needed good books to read and we needed sweet red wine. And we loved the Big Sur. She whispered to me. Big Sur, create by the hands of God.

Coyote

Author's Note

Thank you for reading.