Homeward bound, with a burlap sack of pine cones,
I climb the round-breasted hills of Tamalpais.
Ahead, on a rim of a cloud-hammered sky
the pale moon, no more than a pear-tree petal,... more »
All of a sudden, strangely, our days become shorter;
Our dearest friend departs on a mysterious journey
Never to write or call again;
A spreading shadow brushes the moonlit hillside;... more »