It seems fitting somehow
\nThat on this last night before I leave
\nI walk along Acropoleo street
\nWhere I walked that first morning
\nAfter my arrival.<\/p>\n
To enjoy once more the old houses
\nTucked among the new
\nAnd view all the hills Athens has encompassed
\n(I think we must have eaten atop each one)<\/p>\n
There’s the house where the parrot
\nShatters the morning quiet –
\nExcept on Sunday
\nWhen only the bells call out
\nAnd I meet the lady in black
\nClimbing to her church up high.<\/p>\n
The buses lunge up from Papandreos street
\nLike huge leviathans from the deep
\nTo congregate at the corner
\nSwapping gossip.<\/p>\n
It is hard to leave this place.
\nI may never be back again.<\/p>\n
Pios nakserie;
\nWho knows?<\/p>\n
-Ethel L. Ingalls
\nSeptember 1, 2007<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
It seems fitting somehow That on this last night before I leave I walk along Acropoleo street Where I walked that first morning After my arrival. To enjoy once more the old houses Tucked among the new And view all … Continue reading