I’ve tried living in the city
but I never had the speed
I don’t move fast enough
for the ubiquitous stampede.
Here’s my idea of traffic
with its flagged festoonery
a congenial breathing tempo
for confirmed slowpoke like me.
I know the world can’t spin
without the cities’ glow
but some of us find industry
where we can hurry slow.
Wishing us all a national holiday to catch our national breath.
With many thanks to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.
C is for Cookie
the monster’s crumbed ditty
but it might be for Cloud or maybe for City.
Whatever.
I missed it
because the lights were so pretty.
(Did you see it, dear reader?)
More thanks to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.
Purpled Alhambra
mottled cool court
urban anomaly
soul’s home port
boisterously beautiful
regally nodding
bemused kibitzer
of trucking and trodding
incongruous here
in honking grey city
Nature’s coup
in the thick of the gritty.
~~Musings from a Los Angeles sidewalk~~
paper petals
ochre dust
yesterday’s tokens
faded troth
but troth still:
change is not
promise broken
stems crack
leaves crumble
into tingly wind —
Puritan greys
one Hester scarlet
swirled into whispered whistle
a sly din
restive air
crowded with dry voices
knavery!
softly pliant
summer bloom
into leaf crackle
twig snap
hollow wind moan
scuttling city
racing
mid-air
underfoot —
burrowed
denned
tree’d —
wait for me
Oddments 