A Town Mouse in a Country House

Whether
near the square,
set in stone,

 and bejewelled in
 ruby red radiance,

 or stucco clad,

 and accessorized by a
 signature sweet fragrance -
they charm. 

Crowning a hilltop,

overlooking the sea,

tiny, kid-drawn cottages

 bewitch and beckon me.

In the valley below,
 vanilla villas and
 patches of produce
  in bright, veggie green,
  are the perfect ingredients
 of Cretan country cuisine.

Back home,
between the finials
 of the black, iron gate,
this born and bred 
town mouse gazes at
her geographical fate.

Town mouse
or country mouse,
a critter needs 
its house! 

Which one are you?

Thanks for visiting.
Have a lovely weekend.

Last image: Lorinda Bryan Cauley

Mood Lighting

Sometimes,

our little hamlet in the hills
 seems quite susceptible to
 the moods of Mother Nature,

as terracotta topped houses
 huddle together, while
a ghostly fog floats by.

 On an unusually 
gloomy day,

strokes of sunshine

beam on the greenery

bordering the church -
 the leafy street lights
of pastoral scenes.
 

Minutes before their shift,
black capped bulbs on

 lanky lampposts stand by,

as the late, afternoon light

lingers, quietly leaving
just before dusk.

 Inside,
 the soft glow 
of candlelight
sweetly greets
the night, 
and the day fades
into darkness. 

 Thanks for visiting and
have a lovely weekend.

An Expatriate's Prayer

 Clouds congregate in Cretan skies -

 melancholy masses in mourning.

Crossing the Atlantic, 
they've carried with them,
a heavy outpouring
 of emotion.

Inside, an expat cries,
her heart heavy and weak
from the tidings.

 In darkness, she stands,
in silence, she breathes,
praying for hope
  to come out of
 hiding.

Slowly, the shadows
are outshone by the light,
as the clouds scatter
to deliver her message.

She bids them farewell,
and reminds them to tell
her fellow Canadians,
that prayer has no distance.

The Tricoloured Trio

 

Yesterday, while splashing about in the pool, 

swimming lap after lap, in order to stay cool,

 I noticed a symphony of yellows, greens and blues,

around the surrounding stage that is my garden.

 

  Luminous, the lantana, like lyric sopranos,

dotted the scene in sharp staccatos, 

while the pale, periwinkle blue plumbago, 

mimicking a low profile, rather quiet alto,

hid behind little canopies of green.

  Cypresses, crowned in tones of gold,

 bookmarked the blues up in the sky,

and as the maestros of this lullaby,

conducted the clouds to descrescendo.

With the puffy masses in pianissimo,

the yellow, green, and blue trio

speckled the countryside

 in complementary hues,

in a melodic melting pot of solos. 

Thanks for visiting!

 xo

Poppy

On Marshmallow Clouds

A bundle of blooms,

cruise a pool of cool hues,

petals fragrant and floating,

like tiny perfumed balloons.

If I could wing with the wind,

and on marshmallow clouds,

catch my breath as I sit,

I'd marvel at my majestic

   bird's eye view visit.

But the sea beckons me 

to dip into its depths,

so I jump off my cloud,

as I take one big breath,

then, drift on the water,

like the petals in bloom. 

Thanks for visiting

and happy weekend!

Poolside Pastimes

Under a canopy of

  autumn toned leaves,

a shady, summertime spot,

 I plant myself daily

with my favourite anthology
and plenty of good food for thought.
 

I am poolside.

Propped up near my pretties,

and not far from the feline
that likes to flirt with the lens,

a pastime of his own,
 for which he is well-known,

 

 and one he can even do in his sleep!

But I digress.
So, back to my maple, 
my umbrella of

 leafy protection,
to lose myself in
 a poet laureate's
words of whimsy
and witty finesse.

 

Thanks for visiting,
and have a lovely week!

Plaka: Engraved in Stone

Fireballs of bougainvillea, 

ablaze in a tangle of magenta flames,

show off their beaming beauty,

putting their partner in green to shame.

 Around the corner, slabs of stone,

in tones of grey and brown and gold,

 

outshine new planks of bold, bright blue
despite being cracked and chipped and old.

After all, the sea and sand and fields

nearby, boast a harmony of these hues,

while a seaside restaurant chooses them

 to allure passersby with appetizing views.

In the distance, the island of Spinalonga, the Venetian fortress that subsequently became a leper colony in 1903.

 Plaka, named for all the stone 

indigenous to this pebbly, coastal place,

 Translation:
'Today, mine. Tomorrow, another's', and although it does 

not appear here, the phrase continues, 'But never, no one's'.

has its history, engraved permanently,

into many a carved and chiselled space.

Thanks for visiting!

Escape to Plaka and A Prayer

A dilapidated cafe, Plaka, Crete

When things get a little hectic, 

or worry is wearing me down,

I drown myself in distress,

or, I get out of town.

 I am always drawn to the sea, 

(perhaps it's the Pisces in me),

 

Fishing boats, anchored and awaiting new passengers, Plaka, Crete

 and so, when that crystal hue

of Aegean blue is in view,

 my mood magically lifts,

my perspective shifts,

and suddenly, I am

floating in a sea of hope.

Please join me,

and say a prayer for my

sweet friend, Tammy,

witty writer of the Peanut,  

who is faced with some

challenges of her own 

at this time.

 

Thanks for visiting

and have a wonderful week!