While I sat at my desk searching for artistic vision
A gust of whimsy lifted me up out of my senior routine
As if I were a wayward party balloon.

I hovered above my house
Slightly to the left of the solar panels.

To the west, a glimmering sliver of the Pacific
A tonsure of fog.
Cattle ranches separated by
Oak-dense canyons.
Around me redwood groves
the green hills of Occidental.
To the east, vineyards
Organic farms.
The dreaded strip malls of Petaluma.

Sanctuary
Unified by music and poetry.