~ para Luis ~
Soft corn seed floats atop and sheds its kernel;
Bubbles clear and the air fills with a sweet scent.
Notes filtered through diamond lights sound eternal,
Corralling a figure, gliding with intent.
City skylines greet this man of age vernal,
Viva la vida, budding toward life’s ascent.
A pupil and teacher, he weaves through guan xi,
And dares the market challenge, the stock drop plea.
Newly versed in the tongue of a distant land,
And seasoned in the dance of his native home,
He dwells on mid-ground, dreams with the lower hand,
And eyed with bias, grows in a patch of loam.
Hearing our financial woes, he drafts a plan.
Through a sea of alarming charts, his eyes roam.
Where the tango hands lead, a fiesta dawns.
In New York City, a dance must trail his yawns.