In September,
when summer
lingers in the valley,
the sky hovers low
and dusky over the city.
Few brave the hot pavement.
Children hide
in curtained bedrooms
gazing at flickering screens,
grown-ups sequester
themselves in air-conditioned boxes
apartments, offices, sedans.
No one sees
Saint Francis arising
from concrete statuary,
the Virgin of Guadalupe
stepping out of a mural
angels peeking
out of whorls and knot holes
on an unpainted fence.
