Island Of Paradise Poem by TerriJo James

On a windy, skinny paved road
To and from each day I pass
Knowing not the neighbors that live there;
Knowing not their language,
He speaks.
A man, golden aged,
Flags me down outside his house.
In his hand,
A bag of lemons from a tree he owns...
More than 20;
Maybe 30.
I back up to see what he wants...
A gift;
Purely a gift.
Lemons!
'Efaristo Poli!
I say, politely
As he walks away to his house.
'Efaristo Poli!
A Sicilian man gifted with
The gift of love.

1998