Twin Cities

the town sits pertly in its valley

moving from dawn to dusk

full of intent and purpose

myopic in its focus

bustling and busying itself

amid the noise of traffic

the smell of commerce

wood and stone buildings

rubbing shoulders

sidewalks winding and heaving

right down to the last quick street

on the other side of that same street

the larger twin lies in repose

birds roosting in its hair

squirrels hiding acorns in its pockets

trees and hedges cycling

imperceptibly with the grass

stone and concrete slabs standing guard

mute, slowly tilting

inert flowers fading in their pots

tires crunching gravel now and then

to signal new arrivals

the twin cities are joined at the center stripe

sharing their denizens

who slip easily

across the street

without stop signs

or crossing guards

or boatmen

Sybilla

12/1/14

PR12/8/14