Lake Ella

My feet slap the cement path…
Fingers petting dogs bark on trees,
Feel the breeze.

Spanish moss gives us weeping willows
even in the winter.
Fountains form rainbows
as flapping seagulls fly low
over a moving mirror
And anhingas repose.

Black Dog Café pours perfume
of coffee and pecan pie
Into this synesthetic drink.

The melody of squeals and squawks and mothers’ calls
Dots the harmonic hum of trucks and cars
And an occasional guitar.

A walker calls to me:
“How ya doin’?”

Doing fine.

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