_48. Upon Reading a Poem Mentioning the Autumn Wind

Lately my memories of fall do not
still hold their shape and saturation but
instead become pale visions only shot
through with the images of thunder shut
into high clouds in blue, and blue, and whtie
filling the sky. My skin lacks the cold twinge
of that season, the mind keeps only light
not the bitterness of the autumn since
in leaves, drawn coats, the same necessity
as last year, but it still feels new. Summer,
here now, erases all of this. City
upon the plains, I want you as mother
and old familiar home; I’ve lived too long
in California, all memory gone.