City Dweller

I've entered this new world
known to some as "downtown";
It is a place that never sleeps and
where opportunity is found.

This foreign land exists in distances
measured in city blocks,
Where ferns grow in between bricks
and roots twist the sidewalks.

At night the crushed glass on blacktop
mimics the night sky,
the rough beauty abound often
missed by the untrained eye.

In this place, porches are made
for sitting and neighbors talk;
Gardens overflow with flowers,
tomatoes and beanstalks.

The buildings form a patchwork quilt
sewn by decades of history,
Its residents recalling the changes
through stories told from memory.

Streets were planned at angles that
catch the ocean breeze;
The paths shaded by the graceful
limbs of ancient live oak trees.

Church bells and car radios
provide the soundtrack,
while horse carriage tours
dispense disputable facts.

Gullah men make palm roses
while the women weave baskets,
the tourists struggling to
understand their thick geechee accents.

Yet the best part of this place
is that everything is close;
Making it easier to live with
the car-free life I've chosen.

It is safe to say that I am
very happy living here.
Now that I am in this place
I hope to stay for years.