The isolation mansions quiver in fear
Salt air
The sea offers no answers
From every window
They are coming still
To the far side of these hills
Enmeshed with cactus
To suggest fear
Such a thing can't possibly exist
Here in this rarefied air
With cottontails safe in the green
And wildflowers free in their thinking
There are only bees and streams
Grackles and crickets
And the low drone of hikers
Pontificating on what they've earned
No threat to the distant Spanish castles
That glisten in the sun
It would seem
But there it is
The threat the illusion poses
Can't be ghosted
By the brushes
Of the palms
For there is madness
Wherever boards can't be bolted
Being too close to someone else
Might expose you to their truth
Back down the hill
The bees are terrifying
Even to those who wear
The latest stylish masks