3 June 2023
By Philip Kuepper
The towers of the bridge stood
like giant twin erections
piercing the fog. They stood
acts of adherence in the uncertain air
that hung over the nervous bay.
Sunlight came and went
like a shy presence,
but a presence that brought with it
the certainty of clarity.
It burned clean the fog,
leaving the towers standing gleaming.
Blue water smoothed the bay.
Sailboats leaned to port,
then to starboard.
They tacked themselves to the billboard of water.
Gulls mewed as they flew lazily
high above the white sail
of sheets on offer. They flapped,
chips of brilliance, against the dark headland.
Here, once again, had hung the scene
beyond our bay windows
in early Seventies, San Francisco.
(21 May 2023)