Friday, June 22, 2012

Passing through Villa Rica

The green slopes and mountains remain,
Circling her ancient home,
Villa Rica, and its coffee groves—
Dragging the dusty Andean winds after her
(Hoping someone puts in an asphalt road…)
Haggard with loneliness!
Here they have their folklore;
They have wills and minds
Like those long forgotten
Saber-tooth tigers…
At night the sky is high, hard to count
The stars, and fleeting galaxies,
As they sway away like a wild herd of sheep;
It’s all nourishing air…!


Note:  The author went to Villa Rica, in 2007 to do a poetry reading, and stayed at a local
Hotel for two days; the people were very warm, and pleasant, and the young folks were
Very good  doing dramatic drama…