CALIFORNIA ON MY MIND

It was way back in the summer of 1972.
I went to where, in pictures, the sky always seemed to be blue.
For me it was the state of Laurel Canyon and the Beach Boys
where the waves, birds and insects were the dominant background noise.
Get in that open top hire car driving through Pacific Grove.
Seventeen miles of God's creation, every beach, every cove.
But there's one special thing that I, and others, have come to see.
Akin to a pilgrimage, like seeing God's face in a tree.
It seeded before the independence of the USA,
been battered by wind, shrouded in fog, showered in ocean spray.
Standing atop a granite headland that's shaped like Gibraltar,
like a sentry, alone like some jilted groom at the altar.
You could almost believe the bluff was put there just for this tree.
Once there I feel it's a place steeped in spirituality.
There are some who take a photo, shrug and then move quickly on.
To go near would be like having an illicit liaison.
Supported now by steel cables, its very own Zimmer Frame.
Once you've spent time with the Lone Cypress you'll never be the same.