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.

A tsunami

Of beauty, washing over

A man and his wife and their dog.