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December 1, 2004
Just this
I hit the “scan” button on the truck radio.
It rests on “The Lark Ascending,” Ralph Vaughan Williams.
I take my hand away.
Over the north end of Oursan Ridge I go
and the south end of Sobrante.
The road narrows to two lanes.
Bright Luna fills air with light.
Mist plays around Pinole Ridge, around Franklin Ridge
around a run of ridges as far as the horizon
out to Tracy and Modesto and Visalia
a spectrum of black silhouettes, receding one
behind the other
draped in moon-lit, freezing mist.
Posted by: Chris Clarke
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