Spring is Late this Year

We could walk at dawn,
along the goat trails;
when we got lost we could listen
for the herder's distant whistle
- but
Spring is late this year.

We could lunch at the
roadside venta,
eavesdrop on builders' banter
about mistresses and wives
- but
Spring is late this year

We could smile as wood
-smoke changes to
the smells of beef over coals,
and onions fried in outdoor kitchens
- but
Spring is late this year.

We could watch sunset
stain the hills a
cool vermillion, with a cooler
drink waiting in a jug
- but
Spring is late this year.

We could count the stars;
blow kisses at the
moon from the rooftop terrace
and search in vain for clouds
- but
Spring is late this year.