Vinyards, craggy peaks,
Silver-lined clouds, lavender,
Summer in Provence.
Spain lies parched and sere
Under pale bright distant skies
Like an old dry bone.
Turrets, church spires, high
White spines turning on ridgelines
Bringing today’s power.
There are so many
Mountains whose names I don’t know
I’ll never run out!
Looming purple peaks,
Bright mountain meadow flowers,
Steep peaked roof: an inn!
Crawling the east ridge,
Ragged clouds feather west ridge,
Between? Deep green bowl.
Wait — dry plains, green hills,
Why did I learn lies about
Mainly Spain plain rain?
Reading, I look up,
To see from my corner seat
A changing landscape.
25th July 2023
