I left a little piece of my heart in San Francisco, whose Golden Gate Bridge - pictured from Baker Beach - is shown below. Not many visitors to the sainted city even realize the beach is there. They see the hills, the streetcars, the wharves, the parks, Chinatown, the pyramid, the Victoriana, the bridges...but not the strand that fringes the bay. Isn't it a breath-taking sight?
The Beach & The Bridge - San Francisco Bay
San Francisco is one of the few places outside of England that I'd be happy to live in. It was on my radar years before I ever visited in person because of the music scene it spawned in those faraway psychedelic sixties (Jefferson Airplane, Grateful Dead and Quicksilver Messenger Service still being among my foremost musical loves) and the counter-cultural, community-focused lifestyle it espoused (hip, multi-ethnic, neighbourly,whole earth). I've been back several times and hope to do so again one day, to stroll on Baker Beach at sunrise or sunset (or both) and feel those good vibrations in the air.
Inevitably, given the above, this week's poem is a frivolous bit of hippy nonsense - and if you believe that, you'll probably believe anything!
A Frivolous Bit Of Hippy Nonsense
Once more unto the beach, dear friend,
once more tripping with my baby
down by the San Francisco Bay,
tide-eyed at the awning
of another golden-gated day;
beach-combing the shores of evermore
for an infinite hour
as waves of music roll in,
a psychedelic encore
from the depths of ocean.
We are all one.
Thanks as ever for reading. Have a nice day, S ;-) Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to Facebook
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