Fleurette Africaine (Poem 353)

Coffee, short and sweet;

a coral haze over 

violet shadowed streets 

portends the day's 

breathless heat;

voices of waking and

of a long night's end

linger in alleyways;

a radio nearby plays

Fleurette Africaine--

a thin, crackling version

punctuated by the dull

flap flap flap of sandals 

on pavement, 

the delicate snap 

of newspaper pages, 

and the rhythmic tapping 

of tiny cups touching down 

on wafer-thin saucers.

(c) 2014, by Hannah Six

   Photo: © Frank Schulenburg