AT SEASON’S END
Linda Delayen

Today the sun,
	A brazen tiger
Roared loudly
As it stalked across
Its whole domain.

Today the sun,
	A timid child
Made brief appearances
From behind its mother’s
Flowing skirts.
Tomorrow is winter.

Long Beach Winter

Long Beach decides 
it's now Winter. 
Mist rolls in  
on the huddled procession 
of buildings swaddled in gray, 
this seasonal dance  
of cautious light and migrating clouds,
a civil encounter.
 
A faithful ocean 
finds land in the morning-long twilight; 
the delicious lethargy 
of waking up with the clouds, 
day-long hues of wandering gray 
wielding uncertainties 
in the indecision 
of raindrops. 

Traffic -- slow sparkling jewels, 
inch carefully: 
subdued tires tiptoe moist asphalt 
in shy wet whispers. 
Palm trees sway sanguine prayers 
to their sun-god, 
abandoned by his seasonal visit 
to his Yucatán1 home.