Odes to Monona

"I was walking
down
a sizzling road:
the sun popped like
a field of blazing maize..."
   – Neruda, from "Ode to Bicycles"





A long string
of beautiful bright days
I see like beads
on a necklace as they continue on
one after another
and how we can wear
this with love
and solitude as we plan
our hours by hands
on our pastel flowers by the garden,
our hands as watering cans –
what joy
to bring a fresh sparkle
to the rounded heads
of the purple coneflower,
reflections
of the very pristine beads,
drought resistant...
thick as thumb, tough as honeycomb,
ever growing.

The river passes
by as a chest of velvet
does it not?
Is it not a fabric of motion,
green by cover
of the spread oaks
overhead,
the couple who walk across
riverside drive
with a red kayak
over their shoulder
their eyes on the cool waves ahead
and I wonder if love
is green –
is it red –
is it the blue of bicycle
of that I riding down the street?

Others pass by
holding loosely their happy dogs,
retrievers by the same sunlight
blond, glistening
walking through the jewels
through the thin fabrics
and necklaces of the streets,
on my way
to a draft brewery
I sing
and cannot continue peddling,
as I see the sky
is the cloth of a blue dome,
soft, savoring, lovely
and caring
for you and me.