This Spring-like Day In Chicago

This spring-like day in Chicago,

I relax on my back porch listening to the Byrds.

Two Mexican women scurry along my sidewalk. 

They balance bags of clothes on their heads.

Their alien tongue fades around the corner

as they head to the laundromat

on Broadway Street.

Their children dark, black stone eyes,

unafraid of a strange land,

roam and ramble across my yard,

their laughter made for this country.

If I close my eyes and listen,

I hear the laughter and footsteps 

of my grandfather's mother.

A basket of  dirty clothes balanced on her head,

she follows a narrow path to the river.