SOMBRERO

Memory dons a broad sombrero

strung with blinking, colored lights.

It holds up a jug of red wine

like a victor brandishing his trophy.

It flashes a cheeky grin.

A banquet is under way.

And those gathered in the heat of June

will toast to you, feast in your honor,

sing out your praises,

call you by your name.

You are the life of the party, Padre.

Photographs never lie.