Cupboard Door Open and at Rest

She is a stranger to me
yet I recognize her
comfort on the floor
in the air conditioned
bookstore with her dog
resting before he guides 
her back into the world of
split spines and words
so loud they crowd

Cupboard Weather: Another Week: More Summer

it's hot
roses look dusty
even the crab grass is turning yellow
or rushing to cast its seed
we gulp iced coffees
sit by an open window
wonder why we wear foggy day clothes
under the relentless sun
the shallow bleached sky
the wisps of dry clouds
our dusty feet
worn out by drought

Cupboard Weather: Friday Coffee

we woke to fog rolling
through the Golden Gate
to rest against the Oakland hills
then down College Ave. to coffee
and more happiness and home

Cupboard: "Secret Breakfast"

Yes, the fog could remind one of cold, I suppose, 

but I am not ready for winter, not by far;

we coast under the legs of this bridge as

temporary visitors to your saddle of west coast, 

tasting decadent ice cream, spy the island once 

occupied by Indians, handle the warmth of Irish whiskey 

in a glass coffee cup with heavy cream.

Cupboard Weather: 27 Weeks: Winter Is Coming

the Bay is clear
choppy near the Gate
but then it is always rough
the sailing crafts are not discouraged
they will anchor there
until the night releases showers of sparks
to celebrate the peak of a summer
before July's fog moves in