Cambria sunrise brings
foraging deer, screeching jays,
a rowdy coven of turkeys.
I hike downhill, onto boardwalk trail,
traverse a silver thicket of willows.
Squirrels dart from undercover,
sit up on furry haunches,
begging for handouts,
evade tethered dogs who ache
to pursue and capture.
In a small cove bordered
by mummified scepters
of last summer’s thistles,
surfers straddle waxed boards,
slide ashore on diminutive wavelets.
By Jennifer Lagier
Jennifer Lagier has published ten books and in literary magazines. She taught with California Poets in the Schools, co-edits the Homestead Review, helps coordinate monthly Monterey Bay Poetry Consortium Second Sunday readings. Forthcoming books: Harbingers (Blue Light Press), Scene of the Crime (Evening Street Press), Camille Abroad (FutureCycle), Forthcoming: Like a B Movie (FutureCycle Press, 2018).Click here to visit her website. Photo by the author.