Look, Jacob

-- Impression of Carpinteria






In the morning,
hidden amongst tall grass,
a trainless railroad sleeps by the bean field.
Farmers aren’t here yet,
but the field already awoke.
A mole sits quietly,
facing the sea.

The sea is as pale as an eye,
and it gets bluer as noon comes by,
blue and lucid
like some free-flowing blood.
Kelps arise in the sweetly fishy breeze,
under the distant islands
-- the long hair of mermaids fondles
airy paddleboards.

What are the red-beaked sandpipers in a tide
looking for, so hurriedly?
Half withered
stood a Eucalyptus by the Brewery.

And the sun’s about to set
by the edge of the ocean.
And the beach wetted by the waves turns gold,
all of a sudden;
And all the little birds are walking
on a warm mirror
when a fisherman yells out:
“Look, Jacob!”