Faced with this interminable winter, which refuses to loose an iron grip, a memory surfaces:
San Juan, Puerto Rico: Poolside
lizards appearing and disappearing
and palm fronds waving and unfurling
and water slipping
over the lip of tiled ledges
into a variety of pools
and small birds there
atop lofty palm antennas
(and then not there)
and the sudden raucous “craw”
of a red macaw
and children screeching in the pool
where a blue ball bobs
There’s so much going on!
Pigeons bow solemnly
Clouds alter constantly
in the bright blue opal of the sky.
How could I possibly be bored?
December 2, 1999
I wrote this for Bernadette, long before she became our Irish correspondent —