Vices

I only have tea on Sundays
and when I feel like the teacups need washing.
They say I am a creature of habit.

But look! Little Ramona sells sampaguitas
on the steep steps leading to the church’s core.
She looks like an angel, gliding above
a carpet of red candlewax.

Every time the sky turns gray, people rush
past her (almost unseen) as umbrellas open.
But Ramona would rejoice — she knows
she could wash her tired feet again.

We all have our vices; me and my tea,
people and their rushing
under their red umbrellas,

Ramona and her sampaguitas,
and all the love she feels
every time she is embraced by rain.