Always a welcome sight: Ol’ Tecoma in all her glory.
The bus cuts the corner into Cemetary Road.
I pull the bell. Stop. Dislodge.
Then continue on along the scenic walk.
I say hello to the keepers of the road:
Tall Light Pole
in his long metallic-silver coat.
Man Hole
with his sturdy rectangular face.
Careful. Walk around him.
Don't step on the weeds he's managed to grow.
Round the corner,
Ol' Tecoma,
her many trumpets blowing
notes of gold.
I always take the long way home.