Sunday in CinCity

The Changing Light

by Lawrence Ferlinghetti

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


Losing an hour of sleep last night for Daylight Savings seems a small price for the promise of sunshine when I leave work after 12 hours. It's been a grim winter in many ways for too many of us.
Miss Honey-Haired was able to spend her winter in San Francisco for school. Chilly days there are 60 degrees and MissNewOrleans almost had to turn on the A/C for temps above 75. The struggle is apparently very real.