Two day stubble and sombrero soil
under orange-tree sunsets,
the hanging drift of day's cache of light
Orito, Montforte;
the adolescent olive trees
near the blurred red car
are stalked by sunlight
between
swollen glands of soil,
a few groves, whitewash ranches,
men in fields idle near JCBs -
and the highway's lemon-housed posse;
Novelda's church dares mountain to dislodge it from its perch,
the fields are an elegy of browns,
of electric railway poles,
gorse fire smoke yet to be - perhaps enamoured
23/2/2018
Beautiful work of art, insightful and descriptive with good choice of words. Thanks for sharing, John.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thank you Chinedu ☺