For the third day in a row the band played
The Sound of Silence in flutes & petulant
String, echoing from courtyard to hotel balcony
Where a man leans against a white banister
Smoking a cigarette. Notes bound the banks
& trickle downriver with whatever melancholy
The lips & breath of a woman can muster
As she slowly forgets her own. Notes inspire
A mother dragging children, hustling past
San Fernando De Bexar Cathedral, to pause,
To listen: Can you hear, little ones, pueden oír?
Howl, little ones, roaming the streets like wolves,
Howl and swim the river. They did & you can
See them in the painting in the lobby on the wall
As a woodpecker taps cadence at the cypress
In the courtyard, where a woman shuts her eyes
& plays. Hello darkness my old friend… she has
Left seeds of a vision planted in the late San Antonio
Dusk, which yellows & ends without slow applause
As the humble drowning sun becomes ovation
& the newly converted breathe fire, loosen ties & howl.
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