Potcoave pe asfalt

(horseshoes on asphalt)

Indigo sky with guiding moon
and fog,
a familiar terror scenario.

Birds sing, dogs bark,
roosters wake up the community.

Cows are already on the hill,
eating the fresh grass
as delicately as possible.

A horseman passing by,
the sound of horseshoes
on asphalt.

Gorgeous wisteria sinensis
all along the terrace,
vine at the entrance to the house
and the lupulus plant,
extending.

The air is so fresh
I can’t believe it.
And as the sun sets
it´s getting chilly.

I take a jacket, put on rubber boots
and enter the garden.

Romeo´s garden in his absence is
still growing,
the chain provoked circularity.