Temptations

By Armando Javier Gimenez

             The porch is a tether to the homeland. Flies circle the basil and ivy laid across wooden

rails. A wooden pedestal is a watchtower for the overseer to view all approaching. Views

pleasant and green, but there are only flies in this crafted oasis. Darkness and stagnation make

eyelids heavy, chained to the rocking chair tight. With no touch or sight, the old folk smell the

earth and its coolness. Smell the mint and the photosynthesis. The bacteria enjoy this too, and the old, whose bodies will partake and lay.

             No one approaches the watchtower of wood and earth, but summer. Summer bears its sun and waves of heat. Heat so thick, it rests on the nostrils like warm pie. As the wind trespasses through, it invokes rebellion. It lifts and carries small hints of adventure and unknown. It eases the weights of the earth and fans the flames of youth. The smell of herbs is overpowered by spices of distant lands, beyond the overseer’s station.

             Unseen fire holds its torch in the air. A kick forward, watering old eyes as it walks past

green pastures and gardens. It walks ahead on the horizon, landing on something yet to be

experienced. A true beacon draws all towards its light. It is an invitation to live again, another

life across the unknown.

Smell the herbs and heat

Summer winds carry a flare

Of a foreign life.