Old Spanish Days
written by: Mark Tulin
A Spanish celebration–
trumpets bloom, drums awaken,
and golden horses stride
down State Street
in Mexican colors
of red, green, and white.
Senoras sell hollow eggs,
washed and painted,
filled with childhood dreams,
broken over the heads
of family and friends
in a confetti waterfall.
Smash! Crackle! Pow!
Confetti eggs oozing
with the yolk of life,
sticks to sweaty brows,
colorful dots glisten,
medals of joy,
during a carnival of hearts.
Men with shining bravado
riding Palominos in the clouds.
Flamenco dancers twirling dreams
in long ruffled dresses ablaze.
Boys with painted mustaches
in oversized sombreros.
Mariachi players
with stories in their eyes,
making guitar strings quiver.
In Santa Barbara,
during the last week of July,
there’s a big party
that enlivens a dead spirit,
lightens a dark sky,
infuses a sleepy California town
with laughter, magic,
and a parade of memories
on Old Spanish Days.
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