Patio de los Naranjas
They say the fruit is bitter,
But the air of Seville sings
Citrus, a chorus that
lines
The ancient gardens.
Smooth stones make faces
On the ground, where every
Good boy does fine
Beneath a Spanish sky,
Where he who sings prays twice,
Where solo is an aria of orange.
How beautiful : ) I can imagine being there. If you have been once in such a garden at the time of blossom, you will never forget the overwhelming scent.
ReplyDeleteSeriously Karen, Martin^ pegged this. A short lovely piece that brings to mind the essence of Spring in the air. You evoked Road Dog memories of the many citrus groves I nipped an orange or grapefruit from...oh those days how I sang.
ReplyDeleteYou've captured and shared the singing scented essence of citrus. How lovely.
ReplyDeleteThis is lovely - and now I'm craving some orange juice!
ReplyDeleteLoved, loved, loved this! Been there and written the companion piece, only I'm on the wrong computer to copy and paste. Laters!
ReplyDeleteYou've captured the patio life. Hope you can make it to Cantabria!
ReplyDelete