At my home near the Bay,
Stepping out into the rain-drenched air,
Covering my hair.
And then the rain stopped,
And I sensed other California places
I’ve mostly been.
The snow-chilled air of winter Tahoe,
The sea scents of Half Moon Bay,
A whiff of pungent pines in the Sierras,
Or Central Valley heat, like an oven baking.
You can smell the mud, fishing by a river,
Or at the Elkhorn Slough.
Or catch the skunk’s scent at night while driving,
Hoping death did not cause the fumes..
Did you ever smell the Jeffrey pines at Lassen?
They’re like vanilla pudding!
We all breathe the same air —
Remember California in your dreams.
clarakatalin 
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