Sun so heavy, it sinks, red,
Into the River that cuts, and guards the heavy hills.
The air moist and thick, breezes play at my hair.
Old stone paths, cool, cool shadows
stretch above.
The afternoon quiet, yet so full of whispers,
clicks, and caws.
Wander through tunneled roads, hidden doorways,
offer refreshing shade.
Ancient land, the smell of bread and oil, the taste of brine and salt,
In my heart, Spain, and all my desires.
the sagacious bee 