Nuit Blanche

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Abstract

, sleepless night, With no one but cats who twitch an ear and watch me appear and disappear from light to light.The cobblestones beneath my feet Hold five centuries of heat by day. The ballast from a Spanish fleet Lay in uneven rows of blue and grey: Etchings in the night.I am a conjuror of ghosts who makes a spirit-man app

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ear: It is an ancient conqueror Who rests his armour on the pier, Then fades from sight.I hear the cannons fire, the people flee A thunderous volley from the fleet. Is it a storm or ancient history? Is it blood or shadows on the street? Nuit blanche. White night.Old San Juan, Puerto Rico March 2020</article></body>

Ode to a sleepless night

Adoquines, Old San Juan Photo: ©Ronald C. Flores-Gunkle

Wandering the warrens of Old San Juan On another endless, sleepless night, With no one but cats who twitch an ear and watch me appear and disappear from light to light.

The cobblestones beneath my feet Hold five centuries of heat by day. The ballast from a Spanish fleet Lay in uneven rows of blue and grey: Etchings in the night.

I am a conjuror of ghosts who makes a spirit-man appear: It is an ancient conqueror Who rests his armour on the pier, Then fades from sight.

I hear the cannons fire, the people flee A thunderous volley from the fleet. Is it a storm or ancient history? Is it blood or shadows on the street? Nuit blanche. White night.

Old San Juan, Puerto Rico March 2020