Her infinite beauty never ceases
to amaze me:
St. Charles Avenue,
The Garden District,
Canal Street,
Christmas in the Oaks,
Audubon Park,
Vieux Carre,
and every hidden courtyard
that holds her secrets dear.
Though she has fallen,
though her face is
still streaked with tears,
she is strong and glorious,
and my NOLA will sing once again.

by Amanda Wilson
With many thanks to Amanda Wilson for sharing this with us.
Ode to NOLA

Her streets sing their
sweet melody:
the trumpet tune and the
gruff voice of Louis Armstrong.
She sets the dinner table,
the aromas of jambalaya,
crawfish etouffee, and gumbo
force me to close my eyes
and take another deep breath.
She powders my nose white with
soft, warm beignets,
eases my pain with a cafe au lait.
She knows a good time:
Mardi Gras Mambo,
rollin' with the Krewe of Orpheus.
Purple, green and gold
hang from her balconies,
ancient tree branches,
and anyone who knows
how to laissez les bons temps rouler.