La Plaza

Sunflower husks
litter the ground.
Discarded by
kids as they sit, cracking
pippas by the packet.


Brown clothes, brown skin,
eyes that see all.
Sitting with canes
are the slippered old men.
In groups they talk and watch.

Mujeres meet
to chew the fat,
like chirping birds.
Broadened by childbearing.
Communication line.

By the church door
young barman lies.
Beer is the god
for this drunkard by day,
gypsy wailer by night.

Foreigners come
searching for sun,
looking for life.
What do they really find?
Raised eyebrows, cheap houses.

Solid as rock,
porous as sponge,
all is absorbed.
All life circles the square.
Heartbeat of the village.

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