down harbor way

by Tobi Alfier

A virtual rainbow of sorts

no matter the weather or season.

Wide park fronting the bay—

its greens changing to golds, to white,

to greens again. The water always a version

of blue to black, quiet or boisterous, music

orchestrating the whole affair. Anchored

on one end by the Rose and Thorn Pub,

the other holds the ferry dock, taxi stand,

Joan’s groceries, and parking.

In-between, wide terraced steps, polished rock

and limestone brick welcome the residents

of butter-yellow houses from one end

to the other. White-framed windows

share the view of park and sea. Children

with nannies and grandparents hopscotch

from lunches of soup and bread, the odd whisky,

to groceries for dinners around large tables,

the picnickers having gone home to their own dinners.

Summers, finches sing in the trees. Winterbare branches

shadow inside walls like the open palms of beggars.

A blessed neighborhood, where families change

with the nature of all living, but never leave.

The circuit of steps bears their measure,

from first frost, to spring, to the darkened death

of winter, mute in the last of the breaking light.

Tobi Alfier is published nationally and internationally. Credits include War, Literature and the Arts, The American Journal of Poetry, KGB Bar Lit Mag, Cholla Needles, Galway Review, The Ogham Stone, Permafrost, Gargoyle, Arkansas Review, Anti-Heroin Chic, and others.  She is co-editor of San Pedro River Review (www.bluehorsepress.com).