Welcome back home, Libo. Exiled
among confederates you lived too far away
too long. Tonight we celebrate
your return to the crimson city of Cambridge.
Drinking Samuel Adams ale
we party all night, singing and dancing, turning
the clumsy brick streets boisterous
in accord with lively Puritan tradition.
Drusilla with her yards of hair
waltzes until she wears a hole in the dancefloor.
Kimberly, who drinks like a Finn,
embraces us with general avidity.
Colonial sparrows warble
in maples over our heads. Roses that bloomed once
bloom again, peonies fire off,
and we roister all night under fortunate stars.
All night, Libo dancing checks out
Drusilla sideways: so lavishly beautiful,
and so dazzled by her new beau
that she clings to him as ivy clings to maples.