The heat is promising to return today. I have banished from my mind the Chained Lady on her hot painted brick wall.
Into her place has slipped this superb bronze: he is out for a hunt in the shade of the woodlands which have now all but vanished here where I live.
The scent of the deer is in the dog’s upturned nostrils. The deer has turned its head because it has sensed menacing footfall. The boy readies his arrow.
Two of the paths the boy knew well are near my house and have been transformed into city roads, Passyunk and Moyamensing. Both names slip off the tongue singing and both streets break my city’s rectangular grid in the most satisfying way.
Little comfort to him and his vanished people now, though………