The Changing Light

By Lawrence Ferlinghetti

The changing light
            at San Francisco
     is none of your East Coast light
            none of your
                  pearly light of Paris
The light of San Francisco
                is a sea light
                          an island light
And the light of fog
              blanketing the hills
     drifting in at night
               through the Golden Gate
                          to lie on the city at dawn
And then the halcyon late mornings
     after the fog burns off
            and the sun paints white houses
                              with the sea light of Greece
               with sharp clean shadows
                    making the town look like
                         it had just been painted

But the wind comes up at four o'clock
                                    sweeping the hills

And then the veil of light of early evening

And then another scrim
                    when the new night fog
                                          floats in
And in that vale of light
                       the city drifts
                            anchorless upon the ocean.