Gary's Musings

Clear Day Carmel Bay

Today, there are no unwieldy Pelicans standing idled;

One legged, Yoga like, on the sea-worn pier post before me

The big brown birds have taken to the vibrant sky to feed and fly

Single-file they trace a languid wavering line over the sixth hole at Pebble

A silhouette of Mother Earth’s deepest green against a cadmium clear aquamarine


I count 19 of them!

Blue Angel’s, executing a precision flyover on the famed sixth fairway

A prehistoric pack of angular wings and aardvark needle beaks

Swooping down low, closely contouring the manicured grounds

Pulling up precipitously to avoid careening into the steep slope

Hugging the topography like mad pilots


Just off the elevated seventh tee;

Where many an errant hacker swing and seethe

They pass over a lonely Cypress orphaned on the point

Appendages cryptically crawling and leaning

Wind-driven east from the torment of the seaward trades


At one with the flight of a well struck hybrid

They clear the graveyard of dimples entombed,

In the tall fescues of the sixth’s famed ridgeline

Safely skimming over the rare still flag of on the plateau above

And they exit silent and weightless on buoyant thermals

Lifted out and over the coastal cliffs into infinity’s blue ether


Faint flock shadows

Flash off of the satin surface of Stillwater Cove

Then unexpectedly, their pointy beacons are liberated from chest and feathered crease

And the grip of gravity cease, like an ascending arrow’s last gasp;


With the conviction of a Kamikaze, plunging towards the sea





A crazed chaotic Kerplunk ensues!

It’s raining birds….

Contorted malleable belly-flop bombs,

Splattering …. Submerging….Sub-seafaring

Swiftly to surface

Gluttonous Gular spilleth over with Mullet, Silverbacks, and Herring


South across the waters expanse

Occasional white billows site the distant shoreline and draw the eye

Point Lobos, perfectly visible, frames the all of Carmel Bay

The ancient Cypress’ of Alan’s Loop and Trentepohlia Aurea lie dull and dormant today

As the unseasonable warmth and calm of the sea lead the mind astray


Portside of the Lobos Point, soft filtering sunlight drapes the gray Monastery tower gold

A linear spit of sand resides below the Carmelite convent

A verdant Fish Knoll and the rust tinctured shoulders of the Santa Lucia foothills hug the sea

While Whistler’s crooked barn graces the peaceful pastures along the Riley's lazy ranch road 


Today my good Sisters, is a good day to shed the Brown Scapular

Come out from behind the vestibule in non-compliance

Hide your Habit’s and let your hair down

Break with reverential silence

Chase away your eremitic shadows

Scale the cloister walls


Place your discalced feet deep within the warm white sands of Monastery Beach

and allow the great waters of Carmel Bay to dilute thy misanthropy!