By: Dreadlox33~

He feels the damp air
Of the virgin morning;
He hears the crowded cars
Fighting for position;
Like a daily demonic chain;
A highway chase to false prosperity
…headlights popping;
In a road rage to 401K hell.
He smells the sea tide
Washing in it’s eternal current.
He sees
…the mighty immovable orange steel
Anchored in the bay.
The iconic fingers
Pushing through the milk cloud.
A ship’s fog horn
Takes charge of it’s tack
Somewhere …graceful
In the blend.
In the distance
Pink dusted mountains
Welcome the sun’s newborn daylight.
Where once he sat charting
Exxon, CitiGroup and US Steel
And dying slowly with
Ralph Lauren and silk
Tied around his neck;
Suffocating him;
A drone’s life…melting
Down.  Awash in money
Yet…so lost and unfulfilled;
Like a walking skeleton.
A new day breathes life
Into the vineyards.
He fires up the 4-wheel drive Gator
And drives into the grape rows;
Quilted …so imperfectly woven into
The acres and acres of hills.
Where once he looked out upon
A granite nation of high rise glass;
He is now the grape caretaker
…protector of the Palomino.

Where he once heard the screeching
Of the telephone’s annoyance.
He now gives way to
Leaves rustling of the
Sauvignon Blanc and the Zinfandel.
Where he once smelled cigarette ash
He now smells the Cabernet Franc
…and the Chardonnay.
He is free;
To wiggle his toes
In a leather open air sandle
…like Napa Valley Jesus.
~ ….ian
~ 4-26-14