Perhaps it's true that this side of remembering rose lighting shines through spectacles but I recall few pinks amongst those sandstone steppes purples yes -in the heather and iris gardens of Castile and the grass is greener still we met with cuckoos travelling out of Africa their two toned aria taken up by bird song the sloped terrain a pastoral provenance of flock and herd and buzzard, keen-eyed as sheepdogs and restless bulls that sense an advent of the Guadarrama wolves underfoot herbs tumble in an aromatic haze sweet floral sprays droop before sudden rains and a river runs like quick silver with the Sierra Norte winds there we rested under scrub oak and cork trees bent in homage before the dragon range ascent
*wolves have returned to the Sierra Norte de Guadarrama – this mountain range once called La Sierra del Dragón
Written for DVerse ‘Take Me along‘ where Lilian asks for a travel poem that invites the reader.
PoetryPix 