Along the Ocean Path
in Santa Cruz
I walked the long, long way home
In hopes of catching the moon above
and its reflection below
In Monterey Bay.
It was no light choice
When carrying a not-light backpack.
Walking from Front Street
The first view was of
The lights of the wharf
Obscuring all else.
It was a pretty sight
But a better one
Was seen after walking away
From the lights.
The path above the ocean
And populated mostly
By moon-shadows and me;
Except for a few frenetic bicyclists
And a number of pairs of pre-lovers
Ambling along and talking too eagerly,
So eager they were to please each other.
I did view the moon over Monterey Bay;
Its reflection was there as well
But not as anything remotely resembling
A circular shape.
Its semblance was
In the shimmers on the waves,
Large and small.
The moon even illuminated clouds
Across the bay hovering over
The city of Monterey,
A sparkling line there.
I walked along the surfers' Steamer Alley
Where the wave caps trail spray
As they roll into the shore.
There they meet a counter-parade
Of waves reflected from the cliff face.
At the place where Steamer Alley begins
Is Lighthouse Point.
There the white water is like a snow field.
Across the Point the waves are hidden
By the cliffs, but I could hear them crashing.
I heard "snaps," and "rips" and "whooshes"
But no "crashes."
I turned from the bay at the cove
Where no one plays any more
For fear of being thrown upon the rip-rap
That shelters the shore.