Lee Woodman’s most recent poem to appear here was “Sort of American Haiku for a New Hampshire Mountain Home” (October 2019).

Toward Big Sur
By Lee Woodman

It used to be about the sea,
now earth and sky loom large

Down the seductive highway,
the massive clouds take charge

Misting moist, careening,
they come as one white swarm

of conquering troops to cover,
the towering cliffs transform

Fronds of foxtails lean skyward
backlit near the ground,

fighting the invasion that
masks the sun they found

So windy, ardent, windy,
the sheet of white advances,

grass and red rash ground bushes
hold on tight to baldness

A blow of scent from soybean fields,
strong smell of cauliflower,

battles hard with sweet incense
from furrowed bark of cedar

From brazen spruce emollients,
pungent perfume lances

Soon the rays will burn the cloud
changing the advantage

Nothing stays the way it was,
the victor always alters,

at first the sun, and then the wind
and then great clouds take over

Gray ocean pounds away below,
as chorus for the contest