I had another photo calling for a poem yesterday, so I obliged the photo with this small poem. This small city, Csesky Krumlov, is nestled in the arms of a river and remains one of my favorite city-places on earth. From the moment you enter her gates, Csesky Krumlov begs you to listen to her stories.
listen! lift your head, open your eyes, uncover the ears of your imagination!
the hooves of warrior horses gallop over cobble stone roads
creating security, stirring fear
with every clack clack clacking thunder.
oh, the stories the stones could tell!
of the treacheries of friends and the declarations of lovers whispered in secret places;
of the bravado(trueorfalse) and regales of battles fought and won;
of the newborn cries and the mourner laments mingled with sighs of joy and relief;
of the discordant songs of drunkards and the glorious melody of cathedral choirs vying for attention;
of sizzling meat in fireplace pits and beggars looking for a morsel.
imagine! imagine! imagine the stories of the stones!
the streets of the ancient city still resound with hoary myths of history and hooves of warrior horses clack clack clacking thunder.
throw back your head! toss away your measured imagination! and listen to the voices on the wind.