WIDOWS
Greece is a land of widows
black dresses with brooms on empty stairs
This comes from ten thousand years of wars
Greece is a land of proud and arrogant men
This comes from lives of great danger
And the supply and demands of
ten thousand years of widows
THE SEA
In two days
three hours on the friendly sea
Back and forth from Mykonos to Delos
past rocks with good seats for sirens
rocking in a cradle still rocking
since the gods were young
Feeling the wake of the island
where she floated invisible in the mists
before agreeing to dig in her feet
and challenge the jealous Hera
providing Leto a birthplace for the
ever grateful Apollo and Artemis
Feeling their blessings
MOSAICS
On Delos a floor caught my eye
with an Escher like mosaic pattern
Optical illusions of rectangles in rows
still bright after thirty centuries
Next day in a New York airport
we take our seats in the lounge
fabric covering the chairs
in exact same pattern
OWLS TO ATHENS
One does not take coals to Newcastle
or owls to Athens
But it is good to go
with an appreciation of coal and owls
Is is also permitted to leave Newcastle
with a bit of coal in one’s pocket
Or Athens with a small bronze of an owl
And memories of a questioning call
floating across the Agora
to the small cliff restaurant
Where we rest on the long climb down
from all the heights of the Acropolis
BULL DANCERS OF CRETE
Two thousand pounds of power
thunders toward one hundred of slim youth
No picadors to wound and slow
No red caped cowardice to step aside
They meet straight on
Bull head down, youth’s held high
Horns grasped, the head snaps up
in anger and surprise
They flip in beauty over a broad back
Converting and transforming
twenty to one ratio
power into
grace