A man and his wife and their dog go for a walk.
There is no punchline.
Stepping outside feels alien enough
Without turning it into something else.
San Miguel is pared to its essentials
A careful early morning walk,
Welcoming empty streets,
Determinedly beautiful flowers.
Even on this early morning
As the sun struggles to gain
Altitude and attitude
Like our long-ago hot-air balloons,
There is just enough gleam to dance
Atop the bougainvillea, polishing the flowers
With light and shadow, burnished
until they birth so many purpled hues:
Lavender, lilac, mauve, periwinkle
Plum, violet, amaranthine. Don’t
Get me started on the reds, oranges, pinks.
Just a walk on empty cobbled streets
Smiling behind my mask,
Hoping my eyes say more.
At least as much as my heart feels
Amid stone walls with flora cresting
Over the top.
Like perfect waves
After wave, after wave.
Of beauty, washing over
A man and his wife and their dog.