I’ve come to this sense of being
and it’s only the end of autumn,
nothing stuns, nothing astonishes
now that brilliant sunny October and all its
pattypan squash and copper and tangerine
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
and song to get out and buy and do
and in the midst of all, their dialysis
the daily cleansing and curing.
It makes me dizzy, at times I feel
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.