The stone and mortar wall
faces the western sea,
where ferries put out
with a shudder of anchor
chain, bound for Piraeus.
Still warm from the sun
on rock, the feast of light,
the romance of waves, I watch
the sky blanch to ivory, chilled
by the thought of leaving.
The fig-trees smell ambrosial
on the road to Kiparissi,
and jade-green salamanders
flicker in gorse
by the path to the bay.
Over the pebbles the shallow
tide trails mother-of-pearl
and porphyry; patiently
an angler waits by a low
sea-cave, serene as a sage.
What harvest does he hope
to hook from the cold
Ikarian Sea: a flake of Minoan
gold from the winged boy's destiny?
Note: Evdilos is a tiny port
on the island of Ikaria,
in the eastern Aegean.
Postcard from Evdilos
© Copyright: Jena Woodhouse, 2003
Свидетельство о публикации №103022300332
Свидетельство о публикации №103022300332
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