In perpetuity

Something stirs in the grass
And ripples through the yellow wheat fields.

Weighed down with salt scented spices from the sea,
The west wind rides the lazy sun shine East.

Waves of heat blur the line on the horizon,
Obscuring the view of the houses in the distance.

On the line, the washing dries, quickly;
Motley flags waving him on his way,
A patchwork of nationalities, t-shirts
And socks, black and white and grey.

Wieldy white windmills towering gracefully nearby,
Greet the wind on his course eastward,
Performing their vertical three-armed pirouettes
Humming a low frequency love song into the air stream.


2009@MBJ