Philly

by Linda M. Crate

the city of brotherly love
full of labyrinths of secrets i want to
jimmy free; one visit to a friend
i hadn't seen for a while she told me
when i proposed to taking a walk alone
to carry a knife just in case —
different from the little town which delivered
me a sense of security and peace that
walking wasn't an activity
threatened by issues of security;
so few trees growing by houses and buildings
jammed closely together, yet there's
always the sense of adventure
lingering in the air with the thought of
something to do or somewhere to go there's
always some activity to take your mind off of things when
the going gets tough unlike this little place i have
lived so long and so hard; full of reflection blowing in
bending arms of trees and red hot pokers thrusting
their opinions through the grass of which
bees and hummingbirds always acknowledge their agreement —
philadelphia sings with an energy that seems in sync
with the restlessness in my soul, and yet there are no nesting
birdsongs in my ears or little rabbits hopping through
my yard only cars and buildings and houses
broken infrequently by trees and flowers and quietly rimmed
trees of sunset laying awkwardly in a cement jungle.