Well, plenty of you seemed to like the last offering. Asking for trouble…. Now you’re getting more…
My Father’s House
The walls are tiger-striped
Where sunshine drenches blue shutters,
Oozing softly between the bars,
Warm, dust-moted, dazzling.
Air is silken, heavy,
Laden with scents of sun-hot rock,
Coffee, sea-salt, pine, new bread.
Breath it. The heart sings.
The silence is full of sounds:
Under everything, the constant rollers
Breaking onto the shore below.
Distant dogs bark, birds whistle, pines rustle, heat ticks.
Throw back the shutters.
Sun strokes the sleepy skin,
Cool tiles wake the feet with tiny grits of sand,
Rough stone balustrade under the palms.
Inhale light, sound and touch.
All fresh, vivid, beautiful, familiar.
Exhale the city, noise and dirt.
This is home, this is peace, this is summer.