SECRET OF SEVILLE

There seems to be a pastoral surprise
lying between caulked window frames
and under the bridges
in a sunburned, drenched Seville,
so I am told.

She herself does not know
the playful side that creeps
under the beds, or over the balconies playfully.

I can feel myself walking there
under weathered flower pots
and paper-bordered Junes,
turning an unexplored corner,
sandals lassoed to the feet
where hand-made raindrops
slither through my toes.

To keep me there,
to learn the many sides
of the arches and domes and umbrella cups,
dreams it would not be,
but secrets unfolding, how miraculous.

It's that surprise of Seville,
so I am told,
you can run through
like a child and never get lost.

s t e f a n   l o w r y
i n d i a l a n t i c ,   f l o r i d a

iberian connection

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