Dust swirls empty fajita wrappers,
Balloons tangle in spring trees, black wires,
A chair truck noisily passes,
Flower adorned floats,
Their chinas and charros gone,
Glide up the street – soon to be stored.
Walking slowly past shuttered booths,
A family to the side is seen –
Grilling in their front yard.
Mechanical cleaners brush and suck
The remnants of another Charro Days.
Walking still farther to the bus station,
Tired workers await the last bus –
No parade for them –
And an old man pedals past with a
Black pigeon on his shoulder ….
Ruth E. Wagner, mid-April 2013