Anna Asquith

I cried in Muir Woods.

It sounds like a catch phrase,
what the local souvenir shops
would plaster on their sweatshirts and coffee mugs.

The Pacific tumbles,
roaring with laughter
as the sand tickles its underside.

I wish my spirit was as sprightly as the sea.

I cried in Muir Woods
after you said
that you were too busy to see me.

I wanted to bring your stories to life;
I wanted to touch your childhood with my eyes.
I wanted to be your friend, your sister.

Mount Tamalpais isn’t beautiful
when you aren’t there to make it real.