Poetry

This is yesterday's blog post: I didn't write anything yesterday because I was at a poetry festival at J's school, which she had been chosen to enter. Here, as the post for Wednesday, is her entry:

Morning in San Francisco

A street slopes up crazily, with a twisting road to the left,
Surreal green highway signs hang above our heads,
To our right a cable car stops with a jolt,
Straight ahead the houses get higher and higher,
As if they are stacked on an invisible staircase.

There are so many things to see in front of me,
I want to remember it all forever,
The palm trees with golden trunks,
The sea licking the edge of the city,
Where the sea lions rest on the boat docks.

The sun is a great pale orb in a haze of golden clouds,
It is the most perfect morning I have ever seen,
We walk through the park and rest on a hill of bronze earth,
In front of me I see it all, far below us,
It is the most beautiful city I can ever imagine.

Gradually the sky gets brighter and clearer,
And morning becomes afternoon as we walk through the streets,
I feel at peace with the whole world.