Recite my pleasures?
My mind prefers the company of early spring leaves
and their quiet display of variance.
I did not attach colorful description to the afternoon.
My mouth mimics the shapes of Lorca’s words
although my ears have yet to hear these sounds.
The meaning behind his foreign tongue is not lost.
Who are you to ask me to dance
as if I have yet to be moved?
A keen eye would have observed the fresh dirt left under my nails.