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

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