by Charles Plymell
We’ve seen the trace of tears on dusty Texas cheeks
and cliffs of far away Pacific spray
eat away timeless Redwood scented root.
We’ve caught the salty tang of brine
diffusing on our tongues for all eternity.
Innocent, foolish fun loving seekers
mixed our presence in the hot baths
cleansed the poison from our spores
before the new age occupied Big Sur.