Canuelo Poem by Douglas McClarty

The evening sun was falling behind Maroma
When we reached the Pueblo Canuelo
We had journeyed through the winding goat tracks
Among the thousands of ripened olive trees
The smell of the occasional orange grove
Mingled in the fragrant Andulusian air
Goats and some wild dogs drank
As we crossed the gentle flowing river bed
No sign post to guide the traveller here
Just follow the tracks that lead upward
The blue sparkling waters of the lake appear below
As we reach the white village of Periana
Old men sitting along the narrow streets wave
Olive trees give way to bright yellow broom
Bougainville adds to the blinding vibrant colours
As we struggle on a rough stoney winding track
Our destination now in sight beautiful Canuelo.
We sip Tinto Verano on the Peublo's terrazzo
Like the eagles we look down on a paradise
Mountains surround the blue Vinuela lake
Now going to sleep as the sunsets in Andulacia.