Patron of your beloved city,
O San Francisco, saint of love.
Co-sufferer in searing pity
Of all our griefs, whom from above
Birds would alight on, singing, feeding
Within your hands - hands pierced and bleeding
With Christ's own signs - who, stigmatized
As dupe and clown, apostrophized
The sun in its white blistering starkness
As brother, and the blistered moon
As sister, and who, blind at noon.
Opened your heart and sang in darkness -
And where it was, sowed light, look down.
Solace the sorrows of your town.
* * *
Day 4: Today I am grateful for days to sleep in.