Spring is Late this Year

We could walk at dawn,

along the goat trails;

when we got lost we could listen

for the herder's distant whistle

- but

Spring is late this year.

We could lunch at the

roadside venta,

eavesdrop on builders' banter

about mistresses and wives

- but

Spring is late this year.

We could smile as wood

-smoke changes to

the smells of beef over coals,

and onions fried in outdoor kitchens

- but

Spring is late this year.

We could watch sunset

stain the hills a

cool vermillion, with a cooler

drink waiting in a jug

- but

Spring is late this year.

We could count the stars,

blow kisses at the

moon from the rooftop terrace

and search in vain for clouds

- but

Spring is late this year.