The fog horn sounds, forlorn, insistent.
The sun skips today yet hints of warmth tomorrow.
Natural beauty is lost in haze and coolness.
Quiet energy fills the space between sea and sky.
The gulls walk today.

Yet kites sail and sidewalks fill with chatter.
Santa Monica fills with bikes and skates,
Malibu with surf boards and cold rubber skin.
Santa Barbara rests in quiet beauty.
Morro Bay sits empty, yet restless.

A young man sits alone in a restaurant.
He wistfully looks out at the harbor.
Two women sit in another restaurant,
silently assuring themselves
that the friendship of the other is enough.
The gulls walk alone today.