Between the lilies and the river,
the flamboyáns decorate the sky,
orange-red flowers fly away,
bringing well-wishes to the towns where
ladies´ white skirts swell in the damp wind
and men with hats laugh with their brown children,
and jasmine teases the mountain sides.
Somewhere far down the path,
the chickens wander the edges of the field
cleaning the farm of cucarachas.
Mango leaves in shadows of the yard gather,
creating lives full of sunfalls
and fat droplets of sweet green magic: tropical, magisterial,
passionate for the coming fall.
Between Lily and the richness of Borinquen,
with its platanos and promises,
a smile holds more sanctity
than la Santa Biblía
for the boy who yearns only to feel


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