Tuesday, December 2, 2014


I’ve come to this sense of being


and it’s only the end of autumn,

but already

nothing stuns, nothing astonishes


now that brilliant sunny October and all its

pattypan squash and copper and tangerine

are gone.

Now I am sunk and sinking deeper

into the gloom of winter; the rain which

I longed for is here but it is also damp

and cold and gray, and while I'm happy

for my olive trees-- for all trees--

I'm sad for me--this atmospheric pressure, this

holiday light

and song to get out and buy and do

and meet,

and in the midst of all, their dialysis

and chemo,

the daily cleansing and curing.

It makes me dizzy, at times I feel

I may

lose consciousness.

And then I stroll on the bay trail late

afternoon and there--

a deep red blush of sunset,

a crescent of silver moon,

and the San Mateo bridge crossing

the bay like a thin, golden hair.

And a rejoicing stirs again in me.