I know not if those eyes are green or blue;
I only know they hold pastures and oceans.
Warm, lush pastures that draw me by their comfort,
In which I sit and speak and soak and rest.
Tossing, swelling oceans where my power
Is forsaken in the never-ceasing waves of beauty.

You claim they boast a tint of gray, but I must disagree
The gray appeared when those eyes began reflecting me.

Cotton candy swirl of sky
In deep waters meets
A force of power enough to destroy
The strong among the weak.
“Pacific” they do call she-
Beauty and peace men’s hearts adore.
These men, the same whose head and feet
Be led asunder by her roar.

Merry Christmas Eve,
From the fog among the trees.
Lazy haze draped dazedly
Is our California freeze.