I’ve come to this sense of being
lopsided
and it’s only the end of autumn,
but already
nothing stuns, nothing astonishes
anymore
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.
