In Grace Profusion

(the 24th of September, Spain)

Wake up to the
Mounting of the golden sail
Beyond our crib

Night is
The quiet spin
Before we are
Reunited
With the sun

In this country
They put “no access”
Signs
On beauty

Amidst
A half-built future
And a half-derelict past
We gypsies
Feast our eyes on
Waves
Slapping the sand
In frothy anger.

Light glints off
The skeletal scaffolding
Of a precarious bridge
Between
Today and tomorrow

My son believes
That tomorrow
Is sooner than
Later
That the future
Spreads ahead
Like peanut butter
On a slice of bread

I don't have the heart
To teach him
That now is already
Too late