Fortuitous

Today’s glorious warmth has made
Me homesick for Crete and the village
That’s become my home. I went for a
Long slow stroll in the sun and
Watched the rush of pale people hiding
From the light, and felt huge sadness
In the haze of the English noon.
I miss the harbour, the blue water,
The fortuitous paths past ripening
Fig trees and old men drinking coffee
And talking in what used to be
An indecipherable alphabet. I miss
The hot nights, and the cicadas
Singing me to sleep.

R 06/09/2023 13:48

That actually says everything I wanted to write about today, even before the prompt came.