The steps are steep
And the climb long
Under the Mediterranean sun.
His clothing clings,
His legs ache,
His eyes sting.
Yet at the summit,
His weariness dissolves,
Diluted with scenic wonder.
View from Eze
Author: dcstecker
Post Tempest
Here, an old oak leans over the street,
Sand fences spill down sea walls,
And beach steps lay dismembered.
There, a mother and child welcome the sun.
Outside the Picasso Museum
Scanning the courtyard below
For companions especially late,
The pair await with growing displeasure.
Temptation
Blue door in wall ajar
Snares meandering mind ‑‑
Forbidden portal beckons
Garden Door on Aviles Street
You wouldn’t think,
What with the nicely potted flowers
That flank the stained wooden garden door,
And, what with the bold golden colors
Of the distressed garden wall,
No, you wouldn’t think
That the single, bare, and unassuming branch
Visible through the barred window
Would maintain such a grip on my attention.
Passing Thoughts
This morning I sense Death following.
I can’t say how far he’s behind,
But I’m certain he’s closer than last year
And now has a longer stride than mine.
That said, those stunning blossoms ahead
Call for a moment or two of my time.
Grandfather’s Visit
Fading from view a sliver more each stay,
He stands at the French doors,
Observing the game outside while drifting inward
Toward missing-frame memories of some distant past.
An Ending Out of Sight
This charming street is descending now
With gravity quickening our step.
Ahead, I see our route curve north,
And while I cannot be certain,
I sense we approach the edge of town.
Still, if true, there’s little to be done
But to slow our pace, hold hands firmly,
And see our pleasant stroll to its end.
The House at the End of Vilano Bridge
Look there to your right.
Do you see that small white house
Nestled in the trees at water’s edge?
I look for it each time I cross the bridge
As I head toward town.
And each time I feel that it’s calling to me,
Though I can’t put in words exactly why.
And each time I feel my heart reply,
Though I can’t put in words exactly why.
Again a New Day
The sun as well rises
On the narrowest of streets –
Promise ever anew.
Vilano Images 