In the valley grew a bounty

of ripe fruits and honeysuckle

and mimosa flowers that danced

on the trees like fuscia feathers

sifting through the breeze.

 

Myth said death lived here,

But the opposite was true.

Our bread was hot and scored with

amber and cinnamon.

 

Our children ate citrus fruits

As they learned the names of

Gods and animals before us.

We danced together

Every Friday night.