In the valley of grapes, where hot springs flow,
Calistoga simmers as Old Faithful blows.
At the mud baths with a poet esteemed
Galway Kinnell day dreams in the steam

Off a shallow valley, Calistoga sparkles bright,
Wineries, petrified woods, a hot spring delight.
No volcanic whispers for a billion years,
So let's lift a glass, enjoy the cheers.

Today is the day to slow our pace
Dunked in peat moss, lava, hot wateru0027s embrace,
I canu0027t tell where my body ends,
and where begins this place.

In the valley of grapes, where hot springs flow,
Calistoga simmers as Old Faithful blows.
At the mud baths with a poet esteemed
Galway Kinnell day dreams in the steam

Itu0027s like a sensual dance, lawn-chair prone, at ease,
Only my face out of the fudge, feeling the breeze.
You me and a poet enrobed in a hundred degrees.

Each of us cocooned in poetic grace,
Suspended in time until the rinsing takes place.
Tomorrow, a fleck of dirt there remains.

Mmmmmm