Foundations

Sectioned off teal parallels powder blue skies

Its translucence speaks softly in turning waves

A Tequesta woman’s spirit swirls in gentle wind

Pressing her breath against the high rise condos that dot the shoreline

Her feet bounce lightly off the endless concrete plains

She approaches the Everglades and stops short

She’s gone too far for her taste.

She prefers inlets and rivers that drop off into the Chequesta

Here, she oversees ancient sacred places that support skyscrapers and condos

She lends grace to beauties who fine tune ancient traits with modern technology

She travels dark vacant streets where thuds of techno bass leak out into the atmosphere and disappear into the bay

She visits mute colored-homes with barren yards and junken cars

She gently blows carelessly thrown trash as she passes, causing them to whirl and dance before they land again gracefully

She eats up rhythmic Kreyol, Bahamian polished English, and Cubanismos

She passes art galleries that boast color, fashion, edge

She takes in humid summer air and exhales a fresh dry autumn breeze

She sits on cream colored corners and listens to gospel push its way through cement walls and bass pound by in shiny cars with candy paint.

It is unrecognizable. Heavy.

She laments then gathers her spirit in the wind and rests again in the Miami Circle.

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