I dreamt of being by the coast
in west Marin on a farm. Such vast
acres of hills and woods. So beautiful,
whether cold or warm. Weathered rocks
sculpted by wind and native grass so lovely;
Coast Live Oak branches gnarled and wild flowers
sprinkled randomly. Deer graze warily as coyote hunt.
Cool streams teem with trout. In the endless sky,
raptors scream and as night falls owls ask who.
A timeless canvas four seasons to paint;
treasure of landscape view and nature
is the artist quaint; as my visions