These Nights
By Rodolfo Perez
Late summer nights,
Gleaming evening lights.
From insects in sets,
To the flooding sects of
people,
Walking through the
streets.
To the young woman
enjoying her porch,
To the lone street
drummer,
Playing for his city.
What future lies ahead
for the young and the old?
A future of bold
ingenuity?
A future of ambiguity?
Where do we go from here?
