Forty-fourth Saturday, one day late, from a train out of Grand Central

Neat square white houses,

Bright unruly foliage,

Clouds striping blue sky.

“African Market” —

Sign’s letters throw sharp shadows

In slanted Bronx sun.

Train passes through trees.

Staccato of light and dark

Wakes the passengers.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Time limit is exhausted. Please reload the CAPTCHA.