January day

January Day.

This winter day I can see the ocean shine from
the coast of Portugal to the Saragossa Sea; and
in the shimmer, I dare not breath lest the spell
is broken, I see Ireland too.

The Atlantic is a beast let it slumber and enjoy
the stillness, at least till my ship reaches
Port of Spain where the sea is azure and scars,
made by rusty tank-ships, heal in seconds.

I’ll cast my anchor there, in a bay ringed by
palm trees, but not stay too long; I will not like
to miss the blossoming of the almond trees, in
my hidden valley, near the village of Benafim.