Writer in San Francisco, CA

Sunlight streams across
Cresting hills, glittering roads
Time for first harvest
Gold candles burn, an altar
Adorned with topaz and grain

I saw her at the
Crossroads, black dog at her heel
A torch in her hand
Another drink, a day gone
Torch burning in the darkness

In May, the fog slips
Into the city nestling
Against glass and steel
I am perched at the bar and
Swim in music and murmurs