A Poet’s Impression of Reno

Poetry by James Dilworth

daffodils photo


Newlands Park

      by James Dilworth

Another Saturday —

A day before Summer comes in:

Some singing birds above

brown finches and red robins

in old, spiky, evergreen trees,

a couple crows commenting on the rest

as they scamper along the

huge green carpet of lawn

with clover and dandelions

yellow and white daffodils blooming

black plum trees ripening

happy children playing on swings

creaking merry-go-rounds full of parents

low murmur of cars all around,

miles away and nearby.

I make a picture

with camera and pen to remember

when I perched with coffee

on the old, mottled concrete wall

above Keystone Highway

In Newlands Park, up high.


The Tourist

     by James Dilworth

I live out my old carpetbag

My clothes are neatly pressed

Folded on starched creases

From my final night.

Can’t remember where home was

Now it’s where I am

No trace of life I’ll leave

Nor contribution too

My passing through time and place

Show I’m lost and free

Brilliant corners in Reno are like ‘Frisco

Every motel is blue

Wandering I forgot my station

And fell off the deep end

Lost I am found No where alone

Unsearching eyes go shut.

Forever uninvolved I wander

To find where it is for me

Some place my face will fit

There I will end my vacation.

reno motels photo
Photo by aresauburn™

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