Galician Rain

Mud stains decorate my pants 

like Monet paints his art. A white 

butterfly with black spots flies 

alongside me as I play hopscotch 

with puddles of mud. I wait for 

the familiar laughs behind me

to catch up. The sunlight peaks 

out as they walk closer. We look 

around for the fairies sheltering 

from the rainfall in the eucalyptus 

trees but cannot find them. Five 

shades of sun kissed faces wear 

brave smiles of youth; creating 

a rainbow in the forest.

Tunes of the Road

The flutter of paper wings

 tells me to walk more. I’m 

in a place of sleeping, mossy 

stones and barren olive trees.

Cold water flows down into 

the village of snow dusted 

roofs and eating sheep. I don’t 

know where my feet has taken

me but there’s a shimmery light 

nesting under the giant, thawing 

trees, guiding me. Time doesn’t 

exist here, there’s only the whisper

of the road.