Dateline Milna: So Much to Do . . .

. . . so little time . . .

so . . .

I slip out the back way,
behind my house,
up the stony walled path,
through an olive grove,
down an abandoned cistern slope,
past the village ballote ball courts,
and up beyond the old village of Podhume . . .

I follow a flock of sheep
deep in to the hills

I find a hunter's stand for wild boar, high in a dead pine . . .

the next day I am on the mainland, in Solin,
helping Slavko roof his new house,
helping to drink his homemade wine and
eat his roasted lamb,
watching ballote at Greben,
matching Jako, the master mason,
drink for drink,
("Zivio!")
sleeping with geckos
showering outside the next morning
as the sun came up
and the bura blew,
in water as cold as snow-melt
beneath ruins of a 7th century
church and mausoleum.

Now, to work,
finish the roof repair,
clean the house,
wash the sheets,
thank the neighbors,
take a breath . . .
then . . .
another
and . . .
another . . .