______− after Vicente Aleixandre
On a good day,
I carry the sound of bells
all the way to sea,
to the boats and fishermen
coming home.
I come down from the hill,
pass the white church,
visit small shops,
brush shoulders
with peddlers in the streets,
pause briefly in the town square…
come to the house I’ve visited
so many times before,
to a sad-eyed woman
of silence and serenity
who waits for me
to rustle her clothes,
play with her hair,
wrap my arms around her,
and take some deeper interest in our affair.
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