They’ve a flair for lettering.
Especially the pub signs all flamboyant.
Worthy of manuscripts.
It could be the Wild West here:
Streets laid out Frontier-wise.
A chapel at the top of town. The drugstore.
Banks with barred Windows.
A flag or three.
Round, wall-jutting clocks
telling the right time twice a day.
Wagons, rolling on through.
Five languages at least, during this brief pause.
There are good prospects here. Folk are busy.
I took a seat with Percy French.
He had his eye on the crossroads, looking out
for Paddy Reilly’s return.
© Tom Tide 2017