Walking West Cliff Drive in Santa Cruz—kind to myself.
Who am I, made of blue water, tan colored sand,
cement, wooden stairs down to the beach
that plays to the rhythm of the waves.
“O how sweet thou are.” The sun going down
over waters so deep, so blue,
the scene composed by a wildly wonderful God.
Now the moment is passing,
no not passing,
it lives and moves within me.
Wherever I go, the blue Pacific is part of me,
and Santa Cruz is the gateway to the Bay of Monterey.
Sister Beth Lynn, OSC, a native daughter
PS My daddy told me that I was “hatched on a hot rock in the middle of the Bay.”
It sounded good to me.
