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Posts Tagged ‘san francisco’

The Path

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on November 25, 2022| 2 Comments »




And again, I did not visit the psychic
on Columbus Avenue.
Again, I did not sit with her
in her high-back chairs,
plush with bright red upholstery
and shining gold filigree.
Did not offer her my palm.
Did not choose cards from her deck.
Did not listen to her soothing tones.
Not that I don’t have questions.
Not that I don’t believe in her.
Not that I don’t want to sit
in those extravagant chairs
and take a small break,
to rest these tired feet.
It was the path itself
that seemed to say
it did not wish to be seen
more clearly.
So I stopped and stared longingly
through the wide store window,
took in the warm bright room,
then continued to walk the path.
The path is a metaphor, but no less real
than the window, the glorious chair.
I was not clear where I was going.
I kissed the morning air.
The path, I swear, it smiled.

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Family Recipe

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on November 25, 2022| 7 Comments »




All day, I search for it,
the secret ingredient—
something my father
believed in. He always
made stuffing
with something extra,
something special,
then made us guess
what the secret was.
All day, I notice
what goes into a day—
a total of 86,400 seconds,
and in every second
a choice of how
we will meet that second.
If the day is stuffing,
then this day has
some unusual ingredients:
a couple dozen folks
in swimsuits on the sidewalk,
one woman with a dying parrot
she has tucked in her sweater,
a whole garden full of lemon trees,
one ripe hour alone
in the sunshine on a rooftop,
a generous measure of laughter
as my daughter and husband and I
climb a near-vertical hill,
and bittersweet tears
as I think of Dad
and his love of secret ingredients.
All day, the world
shows off its flavors.
All day, I revel in the recipe,
this extraordinary day,
something that can never
be made the same way again.

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Thanks

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on November 23, 2022| 14 Comments »




Inside each honest thank you
is a giant open-air pavilion
beside a curving and generous pond

that reflects the sky and is home
to cormorants, white egrets,
turtles, and humble ducks.

There is laughter that rings
through the archways,
wonder that wanders the paths.

There are angels that circle
each thank you spoken with love,
whether we believe in angels or not.

Every sincere expression of thanks
is a choice to meet what is good in the world
and to honor it with our attention.

There are thousands and thousands
of reasons to forget we are grateful,
and yet just one genuine thank you

builds an improbable palace
out of the moment, fills it with beauty,
shares it with the world, asks nothing in return.

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So Real, the Dream

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on November 23, 2022| 6 Comments »



In the dream, it was clear,
I am the cable car
and love itself is the cable
beneath the streets,
that pulls me along
up the steepest of hills,
requiring nothing
except I hold on.
Though I can’t see it, it’s there.
Though I must sometimes let go,
I must always return to holding it.
When I woke,
the dream was fuzzy,
but the truth no less clear:
love has carried me.
All day I marvel
at the strength of the cable.
All day I am grateful
for love beyond understanding:
invisible love, powerful love,
a continuous unbroken loop.
Even now, I hear it
singing in its motion,
song of constancy,
song of trust.

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On the Anniversary of My Father’s Death, I Go to the Shakespeare Garden

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on November 22, 2022| 10 Comments »



A whole garden of begonias
blesses me this day,
this double-edged day
in which I find myself
in a long and generous park
with my husband and daughter,
and I also find myself
in a small room one year ago
when I last heard your voice,
when I last felt you squeeze my hand.
How strange and honest it is,
this living in two days at once.
Why was I drawn to walk
to this unfamiliar place
where thousands of white
and red begonias bloom,
undeterred by longer nights,
by shade?
You loved this flower.
For you, every flower,
no matter its real name,
was begonia.
I meet the coincidence
as if it’s a generous sign
you still guide me
in ways I do not understand.
Each begonia petal is a key
to pick the locks of my rational mind.
Today, the doors of love
are visible everywhere.
I open them every time
and all the world’s begonia.

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Ode to the Unfolded Fortune Cookies

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , on November 21, 2022| 2 Comments »


            after a visit to the Golden Gate Fortune Cookie Company in Ross Alley


Oh thin wafer—
crispy, round
and not very sweet—
you ask us to eat you
not for the message you bring
but for the simple pleasure
of eating you.
You seem to suggest
we look beyond
the white paper strip
and look instead
to this scrap of infinity
we stand in,
a moment
still waiting to be written.
Such fortune.

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