Along the rim of the roof—

over looking the Balcony—
(on Puno and Real streets)

above the windows—
The overlap, quivers with age.
The city—, now winter’s here again.—
becomes a festive place. Rains
dribble down the outlines of the roof (s)
—the street light (poles), the lights

across the street, in the

park (Plaza de Arms)—
seen in a morning sunset, share in a
deep soothing heat.
--People gaze and lean out
from the wooden windows—near
the balcony, a step out—is like

a captain’s bridge?

with a depleting roof

overhead!
Shortly cut off
At the balcony’s edge.

How endless, are the varieties
offered again and again—
to the human eyes (balcony’s in this

old city), each street, a new
Pasture: here the city is
vibrating (cars—parks, mountains,
thousands of people).

Still the overlap, quivers with age
as people open wide their windows
with great exuberance: ah!
What a variety—everyday, on Puno and Real.

#1584 12-23-2006 Inspired by Juan Ramon Jimenez

Note: in the Mantaro Valley, beyond the Andes of Peru, it is one continues fest you might say, but close to Christmas, it is more so, as I suppose is every place in the world. Here you have many children graduating from school, and many chocolates parties going on (of which I was invited to one a few days ago in the little city called Cajas, at the Independence School there), to celebrate Christ’s Birthday. It is an endless celebration. The Cathedral is lit up like a Christmas Tree, and the city is buzzing.