it is autumn in los angeles
bright and sunny
i read mary oliver on the porch
i stare at the hills and think
of that silver woman
in her golden years
pressing pearls on the page
fixing diamond thoughts in wood
will i ever be that wise
that elegant?
in my mind i am
forever just a child.
the grace of our mothers
and our grandmothers
more radiant than jewels
more shimmering than metals
it is perhaps like the autumn sun
in los angeles