 This is one of my favorite points because I don't usually write formal poems, and when I do I like it. And this is blocked out, as you will hear, briefly and formally, even with proper rhymes and a trick or two in it. It's called the North Coast. Those picnics covered with sand. No money made them more gay. We passed over hills in the night and walked along beaches by day. Sage in the rain or the sand, spattered by new falling rain. That ocean was too cold to swim, but we did it again and again. A Chinese friend translated this poem into Mandarin and then got confused and wrote me a question about the line. Sage in the rain or the sand, and she says, does that mean a wise person sitting in the rain? I said, wise people in California don't do that.