Foreboding

I flaunted faded glories in the still air

Like the banderitas of last year’s fiesta

The leaves of the big acacia tree by the wayside

Also waited for a cue from passing breezes

There is no slamming of front doors

And window shutters on the second floor

Are slightly ajar as if the slats had eyes

Peering expectantly at a desolate street

But the wind hung like heavy drapes

Despite the whistling of an urchin

The dust remains settled on the ground

Only the shimmer of the heat is seen

Even mangy dogs did not patrol

The narrow lanes of the interior commune

Cats did not move from window perches

A girl stares blankly at the stillness of life