Way down south, days start slow

sitting in the terra-cotta

and white tiled courtyard


by birdsong

foreign to my ears,

but not my heart.


I’m sipping nitro, a local

delicacy, smooth and bursting

in a way that flavor somehow

instructs:  Savor!

A quick rustling in this fruit-

laden hedge

above which loom live oaks

and palm trees.  In the huge pots,

creamy cups ascend a stalk.

These living beings nameless,

exquisite mysteries demanding

my narrative shift from the knowing

place.  I enter childlike


reciprocal delight,

sink into this new spell

attuned to

the ancient language

of wild celebration, life

wanting to live.

Inspired by: Abroad, Foreign, Narrative and Stalk.