A breeze batters branches;
the honey locust whispers,
¡Esperanza, esperanza!
On the harbor, tugs flit
on fathomless errands,
and beyond, the dentate skyline
no longer bears the memory
of Yamasaki’s towers, their image now
recumbent in brass at my feet.
A squirrel, brazen, fixes me
with blank eyes while lithe young women,
buttocks bobbing in tandem,
do pushups against a park bench.
Toddlers screech and stumble,
as nannies share news in lilting
island accents. The sun arches
on its marathon course as I turn
toward home. A gust rattles
the gingko: “It’s all downhill from here.”

Claude Scales
First published in Self-Absorbed Boomer, June 21, 2007.

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  • AEB

    And why not celebrate by doing yoga in the rain:

  • Lillian Ann Slugocki

    lovely solstice poem.

  • Out of towner

    A fine poem, Claude. Very evocative. Will never forget reading your on the scene
    , heart-rending posts on the Slate, just after 9/11. Not so sure about ‘the dentate skyline’ although I do know what you’re referring to. Greetings from out west, dear ole Claude. “T.”