San Francisco Diaries


The changing light                  at San Francisco        is none of your East Coast light                 none of your                             pearly light of Paris The light of San Francisco                         is a sea light                                        an island light And the light of fog                    blanketing the hills           drifting in at night                       through the Golden Gate                                        to lie on the city at dawn And then the halcyon late mornings        after the fog burns off             and the sun paints white houses                                     with the sea light of Greece                  with sharp clean shadows	                        making the town look like                                 it had just been painted  But the wind comes up at four o’clock                                      sweeping the hills  And then the veil of light of early evening  And then another scrim                   when the new night fog                                         floats in And in that vale of light                       the city drifts                                     anchorless upon the ocean


Lawrence Felinghetti, 1919