On birthday morning in San francisco-

Balmy wind blows past my bed, from the cracked window 

Under me flags fly atop the fairmonts front doors

 lines form to view a gingerbread house the history of a great hotel in a great city-

I am stilled, awakenin by into the clammering bells of the street cars as they pass Grace church- calling- calling for us to pray with come- go into ur room. Close your door and pray to your father who sees in secret- the church- but a reminder ---