Aug. 19, 1957
1:08 PM
On route to Los Angeles,
We are now traveling the Grapevine, which is surrounded by great majestic yet conquered giants, the mountains. The layers of stepping stones caress their sun beating faces. I can hear the heart beat of this high world, pleading, crying, yet commanding we little people to forget our worldly scorn, take up the stone of wonder and dwell in the thought of the beauty, God’s gift, nature.
We are now on [illegible] Boulevard, on our way to the beach. A little dip will refresh us all.
Many a highway have traveled I, in stride with characters of all trade, Only those who guide the trucks wheels, deserve to hold [courtesies] pride.
A little beep of the horn
A wave, a wink of the eye
Are only friendly debts untorn.
Little flower rare/
Draped in white [illegible]/
Reaching each petal to the sky/
Displaying pollen so bright/
Smile this day – sleep tonight./
Thy mother seed/
Accented beauty in thy behalf/
And bore a life/
To be endured with obedience/
For eternity will clasp/
Gently the drapes of sleep/
On thee/
Leaving thee only free/
Moments which to/
Breath the air,/
To bow thy head when rays of sun/
Beguile thy fervent from.