as dusk drinks daylight

and the world turns monochrome

the sea and distant mountains, blue on blue

i wear the heat of the day like a slinky dress

and crickets rehearse for the night ahead

a sultry song in song,

which rises up the valley

and reaches the theater of pergamon

perched on the hills above us,

where last summer you improvised

a surprise performance for tourists from the Oz:

a solo silhouette on a stone stage,

an ancient actor with an oracle,

baritone and applaudable,

and even the lizard on the steps beside me,

like a poised roman noble,

paused to admire you –

his skin shooting colors in the sun.

 

you dazzled all of us, you made us laugh.

 

but time is a wild wind

and from the same hills now,

devoid of summer and your baritone,

bells sound:

hesitant at first, then in haste

as hungry goats race,

like angry gods,

in a veil of dust

down the monochrome

of the olive grove.