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Travelling
Returning from my distant land
I find the city deserted for the hills;
summer has settled across the sky.
I have badly misjudged the time.
The streets are wide and and the air is dusty,
the drink grits and the food is dry.
I sit counting saucers, and feel
the hidden sea sing of
loneliness like a stain on the mind.
Perhaps I am used to
being alien, and this city sees
me as foreign as did the last.
Athens 1966
reworked Somerset 1997
Published: AOL magazine August 1997
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