Driving to Napa down highway 12,
winding up Jamison Canyon Road
under the night sky alive with light
we see the full moon
shine on lingering cattle,
still grazing in quick-silver shadows
through darkly rising pastures,
and as we glide past dark cliff and ranch,
a new brightness gathers
like a busy, hovering helicopter,
or an airplane
searching for its landing strip;
but never moving,
far too constant to be human,
this bright planet rivals
even the rollicking moon,
this Venus,
mad lover
of the philandering sun,
guides us on
to Napa.