It was an orange time, an orange time for lunches and doors

with blues along the water.

Air was in the air, dinosaurs as goslings incarnate as

louvers pierced shadows.

A last BBQ under SFO’s eastbounds, another walk along water at the bottom

of West Second

and then, Lefty left there,

I was over the hill.  80 to 89,

Sierra Valley,

70 to 395 with

pavement done at Doyle,

the RR crossed just west of Sand Pass

and Wall Spring spring before four.

That night, Moon,

the first night’s moon…somehow so little time.