My summer home

My shirt bung out to dry in the lavender breeze.
The house set in lavender hills.
The colour at dusk as the rounded tufts of green and blue begin to glow against the red earth.
As we walk our steps create a perfumed world, we carry armfuls of fragrance to put into drawers and baskets.
Some of the blue fragrances we carry back to Brooklyn so that when we wake to the shrill of police car sirens we know that lavender breeze still carresses the bills in Alpera.
Jim Bird