sunshine soft on skin.
fixing the traffic light is a worker
on a crane, white
helmet, blue
skies and the reaching spire of Iglesia Biblica Sublime Gracia.
A couple push a stroller – stopping at light as hand reaches in,
readjusting, rearranging, caressing.
A man sits on a bench,
another lies on another,
belongings in bags that serve as pillows.
A pair runs by, thump thump thump thump
under the disparate shades of trees;
some with autumnal leaves, ever falling,
some with green foliage, defiantly green.
The traffic light is now fixed, the worker gone,
below it cars, scooters, bikes, feet, the demands of day.