Parkfield

Sunshine cascading across your mountain of note,

Instruments planted just for hope.

The schedule that comes by twenty two,

Divides the ones who follow you.

Though some come to hunt, in your fields of dreams,

The work that continues, has many means.

To discover, to live, to learn to deny,

Earthquake prediction remains a far cry.

Parkfield, the town I've come to know,

I can't explain why, I love you so.

From Middle Mountain I've seen the ray,

The two laser kind, I saw yesterday.

Someday, when the ground shakes, from far below,

The warning will come, from those who know.

In Parkfield, a near 6 point O.

Petra Nova Challus,

Philosopher, Psychic, Mystic & Earth Dweller