We live in dreams:
These sentimental afternoons,
These silent vows.
How we starve without them.
He puts the camera in the tree fork.
It regards them without passion.
The tree is a holm oak, the kind
that´s chopped and burned for charcoal.
They smile there twice, notice nearby
some pink scissors and a cushion.
Seven have conquered the small summit;
joke about one who disappeared over
the top and met another tribe
who made him King, in minutes.
They´ve photographed sweet pea, sage
covered with bees, the fruits of asphodel.
They´ve talked of death and birth,
to the Bar Maria where they´ll feast
and praise Elizabeth Bishop.
Later, they will re-tell the day,
learn, an eclipse is predicted
for the evening. The moon
will hide herself for seven hours.
Josie Walsh is one of the Pennine Poets. Her most recent collection 'Another Breath' is available from Amazon. She has frequently visited the Almassera Vella. This poem was written following a walk with Jo Shapcott and others to the Divino Summit in the Tagarine valley a short drive from the Almassera Vella.