It was windy wild – sunset on the California coast
we watched the birds seemingly fly backwards
seagulls and brown diving pelicans
I sat wrapped in a woven blanket
dreaming I was a coastal Indian
from the north land, Haida or Tlingit
as the wind bit my cheeks quite red
barefoot, we sank in the cooling sands
watching the final flashing, glassy sun
firewater reflecting on the darkened lands
the sky swallowing the sailing light away
the half moon askew above the bay