background image
Each an end, a beginning,
A middle, overlapping
Momently, here only,
This year, and then next year
Again, especial, late
In the day then, in late
December, this is how
It will be, and not be.
How it is here.
Morro Bay
December 19, 1979; 1992
molly baugh
Of the fi rst sights we saw
When fi rst we settled here
One would be Molly Baugh
With dachshund on its lead
And husband with a cane,
A red-faced silent man
With carefully combed hair
And trousers sharply creased
And his gaze aimed with care
On the ground just ahead
As if that were the scene
They came out to walk in
And not the pleasant park
With poplars, and old pines
The mountains show between.
Big, Mediterranean,
White stucco and red tile,
Was the house they lived in
With children grown and gone,