Janice Weber photo
The afternoon throbs with casual words,
Clear and honest summons, and records
The presence of isolated clouds.
Awed, or better still enticed, by soft,
Mysterious language that stays aloft,
The opposite of arbitrary shrouds,
The heart delights with old, abandoned boats
And concedes with burst of flames and colours
The sure inclusion of sheep and goats
To the ritual of the evening hours.
By Conrado B. Beloso