Walk Five - Dancing figures and Black Bark

Densely, water glides down

a wet tree;

its bark turned black.

Its big, full crown falls over the street

as I walk out into the wet afternoon.

Water drips from the leaves,

nourishing the pavement with every drop.

I reach the corner

greeted by a hovering mist

straight ahead.

It covers the tall buildings

of the city center,

which loom over the neighborhood.

On the black, sleek streets,

that glisten in early morning rain,

a row of cars sit in place.

Silvers, blues, and blacks

speak through this painting.

Coming out of the ground,

a planted box of flowers

with a stone head in center.

It screams into the sky.

A broken tree leans into the ground,

fallen from the rip in its lower half.

Unseen roots live undetected

beneath the soil.

Beside the fallen tree,

a bright pink violet

wiggles in the wind.

A mural of dancing bodies.

Blue, white, and yellow figures

retell stories that have

reverberated through this city

for centuries.

The hips are telling us something,

or some things.

The painted figures dance

all over the side of a building.

They keep alive

the things that are

difficult to speak.

They bring up lands

and memories that keep us hopeful.

They spread joy through the brick.

There goes a pink hyacinth.

I breathe in and out

with its melodic sway,

its sweet, healing presence.

A black arch catches my eye

a street away.

In anticipation,

and curiosity,

I propel my prop forward to reach it.

When I enter the park,

an abundant crowd of flowers

swarms me.

I spot an arrangement

of picked flowers on a wet blue table.

Beside a gray bench,

an array of yellow daises

wave up at me.

Their vibrance and enthusiasm

is the aura of my cousin

who is on the other side

of the veil.

These pops of color

break through the dry-toned scene

of damp day.