Thursday, March 20, 2014

Fleurette Africaine (Poem 353)

Coffee, short and sweet;
a coral haze over 
violet shadowed streets 
portends the day's 
breathless heat;
voices of waking and
of a long night's end
linger in alleyways;
a radio nearby plays
Fleurette Africaine--
a thin, crackling version
punctuated by the dull
flap flap flap of sandals 
on pavement, 
the delicate snap 
of newspaper pages, 
and the rhythmic tapping 
of tiny cups touching down 
on wafer-thin saucers.

(c) 2014, by Hannah Six


   Photo: © Frank Schulenburg