La Primavera

Almond blossoms

Along terraces

Below the pines,

Where towers

Of old Castile

Seed tarragon  and  thyme

White ponies nuzzle

By the wine press wall

Shifting.

There is quiet

Before the lark rise

The cloud rush.

The curtain in the window

Taps the pane

The cypress stirs

The churchyard calm,

And Later

Rain.

JL  1987

To continue the atmosphere this week an old number found lodged in an old file tucked away under  winter poem. I will leave that till next week. The weekend approaches. So