The Skate, 1967

The rains have come
the heat wave
has broken.

In the café
people are animated
their conversation
lively and bright

the cooling rains
have come as
thirsty plants
turn their leaves up
in gladness.

A city tour-bus
goes by, slowing
for the sightseers’
interest in the
cathedral

-- translucent and
beaded with rain
their complimentary
parkas with hoods
pulled over
their heads.

The café goers
seated at their
tables, the Sun
comes out
the world is born
anew

Yes  those plastic
parkas meld into
a fogged frame
of film

exposed to the
light

a
skate ghostly
as it ascends
out of darkness
drifts along
-- fanciful of the silvery,
melodious roof of
its aquatic world.

There is only a
little boy there,
leaning over the
side,