At that hour when all things seek repose and rest
When comes the winds of San Juan
One hears the
shifting restless invisible sounds
Coming and going, in the surrounding air…
Twilight turns from cherry,
to cherry red
Then, to deeper and deeper crimson pink
The arc lights shine
a dim golden glow
Along the streets and avenues…!
Across the street is
the Church, and Cherry
Park
An old woman paces, slow and sedate,
She bends looking
towards the yellow moon
Her head inclines to stay that way.
Now twilight turns to
a pale blue, a soft yellow
Shy thoughts pondering: the world is
stone still…
Those wondering
birds, now amid the drowsy
The dogs in the park, waiting the pale
sunrise!
#3632 (2-5-2013)
For the Mayor of San Juan
