The sun comes late to Mendocino:

Stumbling in over the mountains

Seeking therapeutic waters.

It hovers over the Pacific,

Contemplating, perhaps, a bath drawn too coldly.

Reaching its fingers to test the waters,

They shiver upon the surface,

And a day’s labor cannot produce a simmer.

Knowing it can wait but cannot procrastinate,

At evening it dives in,

Shuddering across the horizon.

22 June 2008