She cuts a willow wand
and walks it through the woods
until it bends and twitches.
"Here," she says, "it is here."
She rinses linens in wide tubs
drawing cool water from the well
sparkling squares
sway between old trees,
her sheets bleach by midday sun
and bath in scents of acacia and oleander.
Kerchiefed hair bristles busy
when she spreads the figs to dry.
Offering me a glass of last year's
dried figs, hierbas (*) sprinkled.
She sits, squints against the sun
as she embroiders a trail
of roses and birds on sundried cloth.
"My three daughters got the flu
and God took them all." A toothless smile.
"This will be for your daughter
when she marries."
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Author Notes
This fairytale old woman was a very dear friend of mine, living on the hill near my house. I still feel sad that she died five years ago. I have such fond memories!
* Hierbas is a typical liquor made of anis and at least five different herbs. The best is home-made.
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