Swallows dive and soar above the beach
Across the sea
Then banking, swoop back to their retreat
In a corner of my balcony.
From there I gaze down to the palm-fringed quay
Listening to bells tinkle
From the top of tapering masts.
Waves nudge the hulls of yachts
Then pass to shore.
Out in the bay the fishermen
Cast their nets and pray.
I stroll along the Avenida De Espana
Basking in November sun,
Pause to admire delicate blue jacaranda
Suspended swaying in the garden
Of the villa Alessandra.
At a bar along the beach
An English paper says that
Rivers back at home are overflowing.
The forecast threatens
That it will soon be showing.
I relax content now it’s done
I’m retired !
Realising my cherished dream
Wintering in the Spanish sun
Share this: