Ensenada

Gentle breezes softly blow,

Palm trees swaying to and frow.

Sand that glistens in the sun,

Little children having fun.

Overhead a seagull soars,

To the ocean’s mighty roars.

A Senorita with a rose,

From the one that she chose.

Toreador with crimson cape,

As El Toro’s hooves do scrape.

A cold Dos Equis with a lime,

In a place so sublime.

Street tacos from a cart,

Mariachis, sweet Mozart.

A cabana is the protocol,

For shelter from old Del Sol.

There’s no other place quite like this,

To spend a day is just pure bliss.

LDT August 19, ‘23

I spent a weekend in Ensenada back in ‘63.

I found it quaint and peaceful.

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