7^th of November/evening

We spent Sunday peacefully. The boys played soccer.

I drew an almond twig on a wooden cigarette case.

Uncle Drosos must like it, I thought.

Perhaps he’d like a bird with an open beak.

I like to think of what Uncle Drosos might like.

I’m joyous and I have a sense of it and

that doesn’t stop me from being joyous.

The good moon lights my space and I can write.

I have made a friend of the telegraph pole.

I hear bells from a flock of sheep

That graze in the field. The sheep are

my younger brothers. I imagine a new fairy tale

with bitter oleanders, sheep, and a wild girl

with her goldilocks moistened by the moon.

Why am I still talking? Am I afraid?

I have to go for the mess. Good night moon.

Good night bells. Panoussis is peaceful.

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