Very simple verses
the waiting windows
while several gusts
took as many guests
from one line
to the next
with winding rhyme
in tow.

past blinking eyes
while birds watched
in the rain
waiting for the crumbs,
the stale bread
in wasted time

“Tears fall from the lips of the Douro, Porto cries at the sea”

Dr T.P. Wilkinson writes, teaches History and English, directs theatre and coaches cricket between the cradles of Heine and Saramago. He is author of Unbecoming American: A War Memoir and also Church Clothes, Land, Mission and the End of Apartheid in South Africa. Read other articles by T.P..