Pebble Beach Rocks

Pebble Beach Rocks

(1)
Out here in the Pacific

Along the Pebble Beach

The rocks bare their torsos

To the mighty elements -

The sun, wind and waves -

That chisel and sculpt them

Into myriad magical shapes.



The rocks sit there since aeons

Stroked fondly by unseen hands

That paint with unique pastels -

Of lichen, moss and fungus -

Murals of yellow, green and red

That neither mortals nor angels

Can ever create.


(2)

There are more rocks here,

Big and broad and bare,

Silver-grey, black and craggy,

Stretching out into the sea -

An open-air aviary

Where pelicans, gulls, cormorants

Roost in complete harmony.


They assemble in large flocks

Silhouetted against the sun

Like a congregation of priests

In beautiful black attires

Heads bowed in evening prayer

As the sun dips imperceptibly

And gently blows the balmy breeze

And the restless waves

Charged with love's ache

Embrace the longing shores

Churning the songs of eternity

Reciting the mantra:

Om bhur bhva swaha.

Rust Trees at Point Lobos


With gnarled trunks and curvy limbs

Denuded of your dress and cover

Web-like lacy strands of rust

Tangled around your torsos

You stand with tiny footholds

At the edge of the world

Drought stricken and windswept

Holding tenuously on your own

In coves and groves and on the cliffs

Feeding through the chinks in rocks

Drinking from the amorous mists

Striking a Tandava pose

A picture of transcendence.