HOUR OF THE PEARL
Bluebells droop sleepily
Tired in a pine scented wood
Lemons drip casually
In the groves the best they could.
Orange leaves dance in the breeze
Jigging to the buzz of the bee.
Lapping up the early morning sun
Limes threaten to ripen
Withered branches from the olive
Twisting, turning and entwining.
Almonds spring from everywhere
Grapes glisten, turning sweet
Packed into the vine/
Mellowing, yellowing
To become famous wine.
Sun bakes the land and the bread
Has a secret promise with a sugar top.
Chickens are fed from left overs.
The hour of the pearl, the interval
Between day and night
When time stands still examines itself
And turn to dark, the moon clicks
Clouds stick.