Wednesday, 12 October 2016

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.