The Farthest Wave: Sunday Scent

Summer, 2002

Passing south on a sultry summer Sunday.
The scent of eucalyptus!

This is my shortest poem, if poem you allow me to call it.
Even before we were married we loved to spend an afternoon or a day in Monterey or Carmel. Highway 101 passes through a large eucalyptus grove between Gilroy and Prunedale, and this grove used to serve as an indication that "we're almost there". In the early days, while she was still struggling with English, she would often ask me as we were driving south how long it would be before we reached the "eucalypstick trees".
These lines were conceived in 2002 during one of many trips south to Monterey. The best way to enjoy these few words is to drive there yourself on a hot day, close your eyes (assuming you're not the one driving) and take in the scent.