Life In Axarquia (X R Key Ah) Poem by Douglas McClarty

The mountain air is pure
On top of the plateau
Looking at the still lake
Touched by a warm,
light gentle breeze
It's silent, no sound
The white villages alive,
The widows in black
Brushing passing leaves
Everyday life in Axarquia.

I gaze around the olive,
tree covered landscape.
An eagle circles overhead
The Iberian sun highlighting,
It's golden stretched wings
Then I hear the tinkle of bells
I watch the Shepard
leading his flock of goats.
They drink from the blue lake
And then disappear over the
Green mountain path.
Everyday life in Axarquia.