Poem

Under the cover of a mask, a city moves and flows.
Her currents are pushed by the constant conversation between sea and land.
All arrayed in the holiday colors, the city brims with tastes that match the bright light
That bathes canals and faces.
A constant jubilant noise
Alternately grates and hums against your ears.
There's the calling of the vendors,
The constant flowing water,
And above it all, the church bells toll.