Morning Hot and Windless

spread out along the olive tree like a drawn bow.

my back against the tree

my abdomen against the sky

hands uplifted

feet open to winds

suspended in the world

while everywhere the endless drone

of cicadas in chorus

alone I strove away from the others

for hours splitting the air

with my strange and sad desire’s

keen.

o sea of olives and noonday stone

above the bright sea of goats out

to the shining Aegean

farther out

to the horizon’s secret end.

Translated from the Greek