On the tree-lined avenue in Loulé, leaves are beginning
to fall, still green even if a bit paler than normal.
It is afternoon and September, but still hot. Sparrows
are flying in from the inland it is safer in the town than
in the upland where sharp-eyed hawks prey on them.
I have been told that in Italy they catch the birds with
big nets, and eat them. Plucked, one cannot be much of
a meal, one has to eat at last ten to be full.
Mao, in China, tried to remove sparrows because they
were eating too many crops, an act of utter futility,
but then people with total power go stark raving mad.
I enjoy this moment of subdued daylight, the ills of
the world are far away. I know of a country called Portugal
I came here and learned to live again.
