Sunday

The pomegranates
are ripe on the tree
across the road
and the swallows
are skimming beneath the power lines
and the soft blue sky
The washing on the balcony rail is dry
The village dogs bark
Church bells summon summer in
and the early morning peace
is broken as a tractor heads for the fields
The sun heats the soft grey
feathers on the pigeon’s back
and he leaves his chimney perch
above the deep green
pomegranate tree

[Flogita - 15 September 2019]

countrysideFlogitaGreeceSundayvillagevillage life

◄ Wondering

The God in the Mountain ►

Comments

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Vautaw

Fri 11th Oct 2019 04:19

Excellent visual writing Chris. Made me feel like I was there.

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Don Matthews

Sun 15th Sep 2019 09:55

I wish I could be there Chris...

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keith jeffries

Sun 15th Sep 2019 09:17

The perfect poem for a Sunday morning; one in which the reader is taken fully into the scene.
Thank you for this
Keith

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