The Giralda

Covertly, quietly, the night tangoes
holding my gaze, twirling me around, seducing me

I lean against the window
of my 2nd floor apartment
Not moving an inch
silently inhaling the dream
that is this summer night
A man washes the tranquil plaza right below
their bond visible, unmistakable
Kissed by incandescent light from ornate lampposts
the cobblestones come alive,
glittering like jewels
Trees with ripe oranges, beautiful, coy, like brides
gracefully flank the plaza
guarding a tangle of narrow lanes
that emanate from an antique fountain
Some lanes showcase paintings of flamenco dancers
vibrant in color, poignant in expression
Others just let themselves be consumed
by creepers with dangling, perfumed flowers
Further up, The Giralda (bell tower) is glowing
a copper hue accentuating its chiseled curves
A dozen enormous bats hover around the tower
gliding back and forth, piercing the calm
They say one's destination is never a new place
but a new way of seeing things
Tonight, through the aubergine darkness
I see ordinary bats
bathing in the divine light of the tower
get transformed into fireflies