Across the bay breezes
Ruffle the Caribbean waves
Sending their blessed cool
To my fifth floor outlook whence
I watch the Afro boys
Run and jump off the pier,
The sunfish sailors race
In a long leisurely line,
A huge pontoon under sail,
A ferry cargo-ing fares,
Bathers clustered in a shady
Corner of the hotel pool
And coconut palms a-sway:
It’s a “typico” Cuban day.
AT BREAKFAST
Blackbirds soar across
The al fresco cafeteria,
Alight on a plate of melon,
Dance on it, pick at it
And squabble about it
Until the diner approaches
And we consider whether
We should advise the lady
That her fruit has been pre-
Tasted and appreciated.
At last pity prevails.
We warn her of her visitors’
None too sanitary intrusions.
She settles for an espresso.
What lingers in my mind
Of my seven days in Cuba?
Flamboyant poinciana trees’
Scarlet spreadsheets overhead,
Umbrellas shading pedestrians
From the lasering tropical sun,
Smiles and shouts of “Hola!
Bienvenidos a los Americanos!”
A rainbow bridging a bay,
Skies at sunset orangey-pink,
The leisurely arcs of vultures,
A teal green, royal blue Caribbean,
Low hanging mangos and guavas,
The exuberance of syncopated song.