Homes Apart
Reams of
calico sail, ribbon along the main street,
bougainvillea
weaving its way up to the
scented
rooftops sending you
giddy with herby pungency.
Arbours of
plumptuous fruit trees,
limes,
avocado and oranges,
orbs for Eve
to pluck for free,
denying the supermercado
of trade.
Cats
drinking on edges of water fountains
containing
wicker bales soaking
of the
basket maker next door,
to make,
then barter his craft.
Whitewashed
townhouses nuzzling
side by side
with hotels, having
lines of chairs
outside where
‘ancianos españoles’ pass the time of day.
Leaning on
the wall of Calle San Jose
underneath
Catholic effigies,
Garda Civil
smoke and chat
in the shade
of the calico sails
gazing out
to rolling vistas of vines and olives
leading into
the ‘pueblos blancos’
of
Pampaneira, Capileira, and Bubion.
Relaxation
behold.
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