[poem] The Crescent City

by Conor Williamson

The aroma of gumbo catches my attention

My stomach stirs

My eardrums ring with the sweet sound of jazz playing just behind me

I hear the pitter and patter off cobblestone roads

The Old Square holds her people in her arms

Hand crafted items

Artwork crafted by the hands of god encompass the stalls and booths

Artwork crafted by father and mother

And son and daughter

Crafted by family not related by blood

Crafted by rugged hands

Hands that have lost everything

Hands that have lost everything attached to faces that still smile

I see the glow of the Mississippi in the distance

I follow it to a very familiar sight

The scent of fresh beignets and powered sugar fill the air

I satisfy my craving as twilight entraps me

I hear thunderous laughter in the distance

It leads me to Bourbon Street

Saxophones scream at me from the top of their lungs

Bright lights and bright smiles flood the old roads

A sense of warmth resonates deep within my chest

 Silhouettes lead me deeper into the night