Palm trees stretching as wind-dancing semi-natural totems

Golden afternoons where sand meets concrete waves

Beyond the ornate 7-foot high gate, coastal wealth beckons with loneliness

Isolated polished mansions look like empty sea-shells beyond fences

Nobody is home. Behind fences and kept bushes

Crowds at the beach see the inaccessible fortress, or do they bother?

They never see faces or souls within

They may mentally place themselves in the gardens over the sand,

Say “maybe one day” and drive 35 minutes home to watch CNN.

A union of opposites in cool wet wind meeting dry fire air

The best of days and the worst in ever present circumstance

Presenting the dream to us all