San Francisco

sunlight slips in
through the spaces at the windows' edges,
where the blinding shades have curled away
from their shuttering duty,

Glances off the dresser knobs,
to the little small in you:
grab just these ones,
find treasure.

But moments pass.
Glows move on,
Drawing shadows in the shapes of weapons
Elves might use – 
an arrow on the dresser top,
a bow on the wall

There is a hammer pounding
in the distance and echoing.
It is wonderful.
It sounds like a hammer,
pounding and echoing.
Bus engines punctuate time,
And birds, not gulls, humbly call an interstitial song,
leaving few hollows between the notes after all.

In San Diego a man takes a shower.
In Cologne a woman and her husband walk to dinner.
Here, in San Francisco, waves break across the bows of ships
and lap against the stone,
As morning sunlight ignites
and emblazons the broad eluvium.

One Response to “San Francisco”

  1. BJ Says:

    Love the Cologne reference….but was that Josh in the shower in San Diego? Love the blog, TB. Sorry I don’t visit more often.

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