The city slumps in shrouds of haze
while almond trees, like beacons,
bright with bloom
call the season into being.
Too soon, calls the rooster.
Too late, sighs the wind.
On the streets,
in the cafes,
uneasy, we wonder
should we linger, or
should we hurry.
Already if feels too late.

Writer, walker, poet, educator. Commercial fisherman, builder, donut maker, organic grower. Boston, U. City, Maine, South Africa, Madrid.

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