Yesterday
He played his happy trumpet
By the gray curb;
Warm notes ascended
To my blue-sky view
With Mellow Yellow
Drowning out the whirr
Of the duo of elevators
Plunging people down
From dizzying heights
Into the onslaught
Of upwardly mobiles,
With cell phones in hand,
And panhandlers and their dogs
Strewn roughshod
By the bank's ATM
Today it's just the street
Playing its discordant song -
The buzz and belch of traffic
And construction
As clouds,
Much denser
Than breath
Puffed through chilled lips,
Camp out upon the foothills
While the wind is mute
I muse he sits slippered,
Humming golden oldies,
His coffee-ed breath warm
Upon his lacquered horn
As he rubs it,
Like Aladdin's lamp -
Holding magic in his hands
---
January 30, 2020
