Twilight
The black cloaked old woman passed behind the oleanders;
then a long line of motorcycles;
then the Saturday evening walkers;
cicadas were still singing. You couldn’t understand anything.
Sea breeze was felt down the road.
It was quiet in the higher places, among the fields.
Nothing could be seen later on. The old woman took off
her head scarf and covered the oleanders.
Mayanaam
vequinox
Manolis 