the Sun is shining in San Francisco
another day in the city
of great Gates and tall trees
day off in a city of dancers and dreamers
as diverse as the shadows of dappled sunlight on the garden's brick ground

a gypsy girl wonders how she found her way here. A tree girl, an ocean girl makes camp in a house older than her, but younger than the Redwoods a scant few blocks away.
Feeling the profundity in the profane, the mundane; the propane can be sacred fire, the BART a divine chariot, a bicycle one's trusty steed.
the day to day in this surprisingly normal quest for art and health and home and security and freedom and creative outlet fulfillment and adventure and love. and love. and love. Maybe I'll turn the corner off Haight and find him sniffing my favorite rosebush between the wrought iron fence posts. Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and be the success I have been calling in. Any thing is possible in the city by the Bay.

It takes prisms to cast the rainbows here. The warmth comes from heaters, or friends, or within. The birdsong is muffled by traffic, but I hear it. And flowers find a way to grow betwixt sidewalk and housewall, so it seems I can, too.

And while there's no river, no bamboo or lilikoi vine, I can see trees from my window. I feel safe and overwhelmed all at once, enfolded and intimidated, challenged but ultimately welcomed.
and the Sun is shining in San Francisco today.


namaste