Pacifica State Beach, Late October

By Hilary King

When I say the beach was teeming with life that day,
I don’t mean the tide pools or how the waves ripped
away from the sand like fabric, sending the hermit crabs scurrying.
I mean the boys who brought to the sand a table on which
they play beer pong, tossing the ball so high, they must make
wild leaps to catch it in their red cups.
I mean the bride and groom embracing at a makeshift altar,
their loved ones clapping behind them,
their dog a runaway bridesmaid in a ruffled collar.
I mean the skateboarders speeding down the boardwalk,
threading through the crowds like silverfish,
past the group in jackets lighting Japanese lanterns,
solemn ceremony turning joyful as the globes rise to the sky,
each flame a wink of gold in the sky as
it turns pink. I mean we were life, our joys expanding,
collapsing into each other, our borders
disappearing, each of us becoming one as the sun
surrendered, that last warm day in October.

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By Victoria Ding

Early winter morn as I began my hike,
Like a demure cat, a cloud sauntered by.

Brandishing a fluffy tail, it floated away,
Not at all curious about my day.

I smiled, recalling another time,
When out of the deep blue at ten thousand feet,
A puppy cloud ran to me for treats.

My, how you've changed,
Yet the same at heart.
And what have you seen,
Since I last looked up?

From valleys to peaks, ocean to lakes,
Through countless trails, falls, and trees,
How many gazes did yours meet?

The rolling hills continued to release their mist, and
I returned their hello with a silvery breath.