Ode to Cali and her Sisters

Mountains of gold slither down from the Sierras

Twisting and winding all the way to the Pacific coast

In the Big South, where rivers flow right and left, digging

into the rich soil until gravity

dumps the melted waters in the turquoise ocean

Creaming the coast, a coffee swirl blue

Inviting us to plant the seeds of opportunity

with a chance of paradise, escaping

the dust snakes and wind dragons

chasing us West

Settlers wagon-wheel through the sands from Indiana to Oklahoma

To find their Eden here where tales are told of mountains of gold,

Plump purple grapes, and coastal live oaks, with

acorns adorn for the sustenance of the Chumash

We drive through the Kings Valleys

where the Salinan slept

Seeking the seven sisters, but falling short to the north and stumbling upon the hearty vine; the kind that yields California wine at dinnertime

Here we stay at El Norte to cultivate future fine varietals

Stronger than those in Chile or Spain

Continuing south, we wind down through golden grasses

Transforming green where California tarantulas dig deep to avoid

wet rain on their gold glitter backs

Up here the seventh sister stands tall near Morro Rock

with a thick halo of fog wreathing her peaks.

The other six dance south and east

toward the hot inland valleys, where

grassland fires swept the hills, and

cracked open acorns and sprouted new forests

over black tar scared grounds

The Chumash would climb the fourth and fifth sister

and chant for their lost squaws.

Where is the fire woman I seek? I call her to my mountain!

It is time for the days of doves and water

Those fires burn embers in distant lands where the eagles fly high

Come to me in between fires and give me heat for the fog has cooled my feathers

I need my hot lady to warm my bones

If I don't see you on the fifth mountain after four days at sundown

Meet me where the Snake River meets mother ocean waters by the seventh sister, and we will prosper.