Poem for the Day: New City (from Miniscule: Spain ©)

New City

The day couldn't be more perfect than this,
travelling the city, atop a red double-decker bus.

The open air makes you want to throw your arms
out wide like Puccini at the Opera or Carreras in

a Verdi Requiem; the ancient buildings,
marbling in the sunlight, and where, if it hadn't

been for Garcia Lorca and famous architects

we might be standing in a dull city; one of those
 
cities where the ancient avenues are torn and
stressed.  Not here. In this city, pigeons clamour
 
in the plaza, to the wayward arms of children, as

statues guard with angelic eyes. This is not just

the mark of Venice or Rome, but an invitation 

to fly seed to winged creatures on the ground.

And atop, on the peak of the city, Gaudi's tea-cup
seats in ceramic art, are like the spinning saucers

at amusement parks. After an exhaustive trek,

you want to sit and rest, capture parrots in their

spacious nests, watch people climbing Gaudi's
mosaic steps. Moving through the city high above

a double-decker bus, amongst the street trees
and shops, seems to be the perfect day, for this.