A warm plate of rice and beans
takes me back to those restless nights
beneath flamboyant meadows,
and trees dressed in shadows
shared breaths with my own.
Lush glasses of strawberry lemonade
turn into photographies of sunbathing days.
Pumpkins and plantains galore
turned cooks into illusionists.
Skillets and pans worked their magic,
bringing forth to our enticing lovers:
tostones, amarillos, barriguitas de vieja,
words not said, but savored.
Starry nights in el campo were paintings framed by my window.
Jade mountains contended with dim street lights from afar.
And I watched with amazement
on my Mami’s lap
as the rain made love to the wind.
Celia M. Ayala Lugo