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