On a chilled winter morning in captivating New Orleans

She stood near the front of a green and white striped awning,

Nearly motionless among crowds

Waiting for cafè au lait and three dusted-white beignets.

She could not see them paused there in noisy anticipation

Of the first taste of those sweet flavors

As the saxophone's first notes of "Summertime"

Sounded on the humid air.

She stood not alone, smiling warmly...

Seeing only me under the crisp sky.

Her voice, passionate yet tender,

Fell like dew upon the riverfront magnolias.

In hushed expectancy, I waited, standing in her light,

For a peace I have never before known.

Nancy M. Hill
© 25 February 2002