Kommando Poet

White, Blue, Green and Yellow
(Benediction for The Lower Garden District)

Why am I trying at writing in my restroom,
in there tapping away at that fancy typewriter?
Well, it turns out that space holds a pleasant view,
tucked away by the toilet, sink and shower.
It's a veritable vista of white, blue, green and yellow.
It seems that whenever I am sittin'
just below the level of my lofty window,
with the parted curtains full open,
that my always straying eyes have been often
beckoned to look up at the sky
for to view the fingers of treetop hands
waving slowly to and fro and to and...
greeting the lumbering clouds as they stroll by.
I stared... stopping my tapping, and pondered
those cottony wayfarers' wanderings.
Paused in mid-verse stream for only a moment, though,
then that moment was gently broken
by the bells of St. Mary of the Assumption
as they spoke suddenly, subtly rupturing
the silent clouds' soft rolling.
Celebratory sounds permeating the noon hour
with a peacefully ringing round of tolling.
Twelve times chiming loudly over the leafy towers,
then drifting down into the cool, dark bowers
all around the Neighborhood of the Nine Muses.
As everything flows together, fluid,
I see white, blue, green and yellow
through my half-open little window.
I see blue, white, yellow and green
as this unexpected scene offers itself up to me.
I see yellow,green, white and blue
from the bathroom of my third floor bedroom.
I see green, yellow, blue and white
Way up where I perch in the tree's canopy height
I hear the metallic tones as the old parish bells ring;
I see white, blue, yellow and green.
Yes, through my half-open, little window
I see white, blue, green and yellow.

see ya' in NOLA