Ojai, California
I love Ojai,
its blue skies,
its vortex that vibrates
high, like a Beethovan symphony,
"come and look at yourself," the land says,
the wildest of teachers.
On the trail, a yucca blooms, its voice
a herald of oncoming summer.
I stop for a minute and stare at its
aloneness, a new ally in the vastness of familiar territory,
and for just a second it whispers,
Its voice breathing too,
letting me know
that it will be back every
late spring,
a lighthouse on the ever spinning wheel,
a simple act of turning a page of life.
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