the air is rather silent here and I wonder
what sounds the wind will make in Portugal
what language it will speak and how I’ll answer
will I clap for my new local musicians?
strange birds playing unique songs
I can’t bring these mountains with me
so I’ll adopt one or two if they’re old enough
here they seem to grow over the years like children
while I shrivel in the shadows of their magnificence
the people will probably look different too
facial pieces in new arrangement noses and eyes
that may or may not shine for me
I’ve heard their hands are talkative
excited by expressive adjectives
then there’s the fragrance of a place
what wafts out open windows
and rises from dawn’s fields
night odors along the beach
aromas from ovens and sizzling skillets
the rain smell as I remove my coat
I’ll just have to see if Portugal invites me in
and offers the drink of a new life
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