The olives sigh, and languidly lift
by Fay Slimm
Branches laden with sun-filled fruit.
Heated breezes caress once more swollen globes.
Grapes hang mournful on forgotten stem
As Autumn flaunts her bounty midst the Corfu roads.
The Island smiles.
The ageless quiet in grove and shady glen
Reaches out toward eternal shore,
Where sleeping lizards bask in Autumn's warmth,
And skuttling as foot scuffs rock, they hide
In hushed and waiting freeze 'til safe once more.
The Isle. beguiles.
Twixt honking horns and tourist ridden blare
Of deafening noise, another sound
Ominously hangs upon sultry air.
As from mountain top the rumble breaks
And tosses claps like cabers all around.
The Island's riled.
The storm errupts, and heaven alights with
Dazzling colours of electric hue,
The torrent lashes fury in one pure
Fervent hour, drenching thirsty ground with
Hard and angry flood, then, cleaned and sparkling new
The Island sleeps again.