I'm off to the Bay area tomorrow*

Throw me toward the setting sun--
to the West, when my work is done.
Land me at the golden door
of California’s northern shore.
Fiery orange steel-gird gate
tempts those weary of their fate.
Defy the plunge that ends it all,
and heed the sunshine’s cheery call.
Traverse the gate, into the wild,
where restless souls may rest awhile,
beyond the towns, toward the coast,
where whales return and hawks will roost.
The golden hills of Sonoma
will calm the pains of any trauma.
The wines and vines of the Napa valley
will help to pass the time happily.
And as you cross the Golden Gate
the Pacific blue will calmly wait.
Glance to the east and you will see
the placid Bay by the white city.
The sky is bigger here; it spans
the hills, the bridge, the bay and ocean.
Its azure grandeur soon dispels
any suicidal notion.