Spring in the City

Sprouting leaves in Spring

decorate ashy winter branches.

Musky pheromones waft across streets

as furtive eyes follow fertile females

touting long legs and bare skin.


Three men,

one wearing a beret,

the other with a tweed coat recently removed,

and the third a heavy mustache,

discuss politics and sip coffee

in a nearby plaza.


Their wives naturally guide little children

whose skin glisten like splashing water

to the fountain of stones and cherubs.


The man with the mustache recalls the beauty of a flowering magnolia tree

with a smooth white trunk he saw earlier that day.


There is a faint smell of citrus blossoms hanging on the breeze

as he reclines in his chair to stare at the blue sky

as his daughter stares in awe at the fountain

and his wife plans a seafood dinner.


A hawk barely visible

passes high over the scene

and, even higher, streams of white fog trail

what the man knows to be airliners,

but secretly hopes are spaceships of interstellar travelers

weary from years of travel searching for a place to call home.


“It’s probably for the better,”

he thinks to himself feeling the warmth of sleep fast approaching.

Church bells ring in the distance and the sun is halfway to the horizon, and

the man in the beret and the man with the tweed jacket

watch the girl splashing in the fountain,

droplets creating a cascading rainbow.



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