The port city
resumes its rhythm.
I walk through the newly
remodeled boardwalk,
under the breeze of a
fountain, square
multicolored and the new
leaf luminaries
luminous.
In the restless waters
lake, boats
sleepless nights
of fishermen, herons
white they seem
crucified under the sun
pm.
The wind carries away the tinkle
of crystal tears
of a modern building.
The echo is confused
between the tan
bell tower that makes fly
doves, sanctifying
heaven.
On the horizon line
imaginary, the sun spills
like a slice of orange
in a cocktail glass,
in a toast, inaugurating
the first nights of January.