Clouds drift over, dream-like
lush richness in the sway of the palms
undercurrent of mourning doves.
The very air seems to call for a rum drink
with a tiny umbrella. Hemingway breathes
in the wings.
And wouldn’t you know, everyday
at 5:00, at the library next door,
the cat lady with a plastic sheet
to kneel on, brings food
and water for the multitude
of waiting cats, tabbies and calicos,
black and white.
And we wonder what she does
when she’s not feeding cats,
she of the long gray braids,
flowered skirt skimming
her ankles, jangling silver bracelets.
Work in the library?
Care for the pet parrot
which sometimes rides
on her shoulder? She could
hardly be separated
from the scene without ripping
for me, the first stanza and the musings near the end recalled the beginning of “Ode to a Nightingale” though the scene is down-to-earth with the plastic sheet, long grey braids, and jangling bracelets; neat ending
I was hoping readers would get the ending
I can see this woman. I feel like I know her. Your ending is perfect.
Thanks for getting it!
Love the rhythm and the evocative music of these last two days’ poems. Love the deliberate “mourning” doves of today’s work, the first two lyrical lines, the questioning detailed description of the cat caretaker, and I wonder about the titles of both poems. Somehow, neither of the titles work for me.
Thanks for your comments. Islamorada is the place of the action and the mood of that place is what I strive for,.
The Villejo poem is patterned after a poem by that author
Got it! And I love that poem. So matter of fact, so perfectly you.
What a nice compliment! Thank you
I especially enjoyed “Hemingway breathes/in the wings.” You share his economy here, too, and attention to building these details into bigger moments.
Good eye! Thank you!
ooh, great ending! and the Hemingway line!