February 6th, 2012 South America

Quito
( this morning, from the historic centre)

Crumbling plaster, yellows, greens, blues and pinks.
The old colonial houses, two story and three story,
All attached together, they rise steeply from the stone side walk
Steeply up the hill.
On street level, the metal doors are rolled down,
Hiding shoe shops, bakeries, corner stores,
Markets and door handle shops.
All windows are barred.
Above, the balconies in white plaster or black iron,
Support ivies, roses, cactus and pots of dead stems.
A rooster crows.
It is early morning, now no-one lives upstairs,
The narrow street is filled with cars and people
Iron doors are rolled up.
People start unloading potatoes, mellons,
Carrying bombas in cloth slings,
Or cooking fish in the market.
Later, when the sun fades,
There are lights and lives behind the upstairs curtains.
On roofs and balconies, pigeons sit like gargoils.
El paros roam and bark and scrounge.
The streets are dark and quiet.

Jim and I are off to the Galapagos tomorrow! You may not hear from us until we return on February 13th!