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cultivated is my valley

by oskar 

Posted: 02 March 2009
Word Count: 212

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Cultivated Is My Valley

Peaceful is the landscape and the lane that meanders
amongst olive trees, stone walls neatly divide the land
a bit for everyone, but not enough to make you rich.
Here dogs only bark at night have cowardly, yellow eyes
there is no wolf left in these subjugated canines.
In Stockholm when spring comes ice shards fall off roof
tops, split brains in half, gore on snow. On paradise
islands too one has to look out for falling coco- nuts
they can so easily kill a man; but here, in my valley, only
petals of the almond tree flower fall.

Birdsongs and breeze that caresses olive trees, now thatís
peace, ok, so should I not be happy as I contemplate
a carob tree? I see a woman bending down, weeding her
potato field, clouds on the sky are as soft as the mustachio
on a Romanian girlís upper lip. All this herald peace so
why shouldnít I be happy, when seeing a flock of cows
with full udders ready to be milked at five? Yet I dream of
galloping horses on the pampas of Argentine, flying mane,
flaring nostrils. This place I tell myself lacks passion, itís
too tame, or is it me that has been restrained by age?

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Comments by other Members

Beanie Baby at 10:13 on 17 March 2009  Report this post
This is very visual and full of contrasts and I really enjoyed it. The only thing that kind of threw me was 'flock of cows'. Was that intentional (if so pardon my ignorance) or did you mean 'herd of cows'?


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