The Secret Garden - Quito (a Poem)

The Secret Garden- Quito

The rooftops

There are rooftops tile worshippers I precarious prayer, with terracotta sutra tiling held together by the faith of concrete.

There are rooftop puddles that never get the chance to dry, and mirror the reflection of the rolling hills and cloudy sky.

There are schoolyard rooftops with red and white laughing thru black hair - there is barking in the street.

There are clothesline rooftops with human prayer-flags attire pegged in  drying trepidation under heavy looming skies.

There are corrugated rooftops rusting on the equator of wet and dry.

There are windows looking into windows and steeples holding up the holy sky.

There is a virgin bud and quarter bloom sunflower standing side by side.

There is erratic plan for town planning that Lord Quito has defied, where rooftops sprawl the length and breadth of the valley in the sky.