with a voice soft and cool
On a morning when The Zombies’ “She’s Not There” doesn’t mean what you think it does. Or what I think it does. It’s just adding music to my day.
Where the Pacific is whispering to me from over the bay, beyond the peninsula, down the big, big hill. And the Starbucks resident black kitty shows up, sidewalk alchemist, to cheer me up further.
There’s a boogie board in the trunk of the car. And a Dunkin Donuts iced coffee on the way home. And Juan Soto maybe lives somewhere in the neighborhood.
No Mr. Rogers. No Vin Scully. But the clouds keep coming and going. And no one’s saying ‘No’ to the waves.