The changing light <br /> at San Francisco <br /> is none of your East Coast light <br /> none of your <br /> pearly light of Paris <br />The light of San Francisco <br /> is a sea light <br /> an island light <br />And the light of fog <br /> blanketing the hills <br /> drifting in at night <br /> through the Golden Gate <br /> to lie on the city at dawn <br />And then the halcyon late mornings <br /> after the fog burns off <br /> and the sun paints white houses <br /> with the sea light of Greece <br /> with sharp clean shadows <br /> making the town look like <br /> it had just been painted <br /> <br />But the wind comes up at four o'clock <br /> sweeping the hills <br /> <br />And then the veil of light of early evening <br /> <br />And then another scrim <br /> when the new night fog <br /> floats in <br />And in that vale of light <br /> the city drifts <br /> anchorless upon the ocean<br /><br />Lawrence Ferlinghetti<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-changing-light/
