Sunday, September 8, 2013

Yellow Bus Memories

Yellow bus memories
Of summertime and childhood
Takes me along Western Highway
Seventy plus miles to then Santa Rosa,
District of Cayo,
From City of Belize,
In Central America

Of Batty Brothers Bus Line
By Pound Yard Bridge
Our point of departure
With excitement
And Spanish valises
To chickens up top

Belizeans -to relatives
Tourists -to ancient sites
Among others         
Their well-worn way
From a long work day

Past Spanish Lookout
-a Mennonite town
Where smiles breakout
As miles wind down
Humble homes decorate
Verdant Maya Mountain-scapes
Ah, I feel a belonging!

Next stop, Santa Elena,
Ours, Santa Rosa
Then, San Ignacio Town
-all sculpted by Macal and Mopan
As if separating Our West
From Their East
-I never wondered how we’d gotten along

Oh, but I couldn’t wait
For Mama Tina’s
Hand-made tortillas
In her smoke-filled cocina
Like her mother’s
And her mother’s mother’s

For a daily swim
In the pebble-bottomed river
Pulsing through
My abuelo’s back yard,
Its rocky, tree-lined pathway
Most likely chiseled by his father
And his father’s father

For my cousins,
To show us their games
My aunts and uncles,
To teach us their ways
Gifts handed down
Memories of which, to this day,

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