Ex Pat’s Song
MAY in LAZARATIKA
Olive pollen pours from the trees in a lemon drizzle
How can one not detect a soft drip-dripping sound as it vanishes
Into grassy terraces carpeted with palest purple
And brightest yellow wild flowers?
But the evening noises are the clicks of swallows’ wings
As they swoop and swirl around the balcony creating dismay
By their impudent jest to papa house-sparrow perching impatiently
Warning his new feathered family lurking fearfully in their untidy nest
The metallic burring as night jays wind up for their attack on scatty moths
The olive grove awakens as dancing fireflies cavort and bats
Fearlessly dive from the eaves while across the darkened valley
The lights of Episkepsi gleam and the first bright star pricks the velvet sky
An evening plane meanders over the mountains descending
Out of sight to Corfu Airport and distant dogs howl at nothing
Or that’s how it seems and then the meaningful wooden clacking
Of shutters latched for the night while the sorrowful skops owl
Endlessly sends his mournful electronic blip for the mate he never finds
The exhausted air is calmed by a whispering breeze
The heat of the day subsides as the glaring sun sinks into
The pale Ionian Sea turning it wine dark
I sit enraptured watching and listening as Mike appears silhouetted
Against the pinkly glowing sky ‘Gin and tonic, darlin’?’
Gilly Beckett
June 2006