I Am That Cypress

The past has all blown east.

The Monterey cypress felt it leave

in the teeth of a Pacific sea squall.


Somedays I am that cypress.

Wind buffeted, whale boned,

sway backed. I was thrust

off-center in my cambium

and over time my heartwood



And like the cypress I cantilever

east in search of lost days.

In my heart I’m always reaching

for something blown away.


Because the past is familiar

landscape, softened by the

fog of memory.

Somewhere in the past is the sum

of what I’ve already weathered.

Somewhere east is a time

when I already survived

the gale.


If I could find it, I’d exhume the past

and lie beside it in the rain.



Monterey cypress, Hesperocyparis macrocarpa.
Many are found on the rugged Central California
Coast in the Big Sur and Point Lobos areas.
They are iconic survivors of harsh sea weather and
winds from the west.






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