The scent of oleander fills the air,
my eye is drawn to succulents in bloom.
I gently sway upon my rocking chair,
my garden's an enchanting outdoor room.
The mighty palm tree spreads its cooling shade,
protecting me from summer's scorching glare.
Foundations for siesta have been laid,
I drift away embraced by sultry air.
"Chip Chip Chip Chip" awakes me from my dream.
Black swifts are diving, soaring, swooping free.
Their aerobatic flourish is extreme,
bemusing insects hoping they might flee.
Then minutes later all the birds have gone,
pursuing prey beyond my stucco wall.
Silence reigns once more as day moves on,
and mellow evening shades begin to fall.
I force myself to rise and glide across
blue Moorish tiles still warm beneath my feet.
The lemon tree bears fruit with saffron gloss,
I twist one off and bite, it's bitter sweet!
Now climb the steps up to my balcony
from where the sunset light show starts to thrill.
Scarlet, crimson, orange symphony.
I watch, enthralled, until I've had my fill.
*
Much later, on that spot, I sit and slurp
a gin and tonic piqued with lemon slice.
Enchanted by the crickets' strident chirp,
this moment seems to me beyond all price.
My Spanish garden helps me find a peace
which oft eludes me in my British nest.
My fretful thoughts so markedly decrease
I sometimes wonder which home suits me best.
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