Epithalamion for Stein and Stein

Two hummingbirds visit the privet,
Flickering your eyes, drumming your heart,
Here and gone before you blink.
You walk airborne toward the start.

Fifteen minutes’ drive to the beach and ocean,
Ten to Long Beach and the bay.
Jimmy the dog is asleep in a flower bed.
The sprinklers mist a rainbow in the Garden of Eden.

It’s the hiss of the hose in the heat
Hosing down the sidewalk, fresh and neat,
And releasing the delicious odor of hot concrete.
It’s dripping out of a swimming pool onto hot-under-your-feet.

You’re a minute away from Main Street
And minutes away from the vulgar, sweet,
Tiny downtown, no bigger than a Twitter tweet,
And the American Hotel porch where you’ll eat.