The sunrises through my beloved wild olive and welcomes me home.
A familiar ecology of all the senses becomes present.
The dusty and dessicated browns combine with the smell of rising heat and faint sea tang.
Here now, movement is slow and life is recumbent upon its bed of dried earth.
This is the harsh autumn of the Dehesa, it is a time of patient waiting.
All eyes look to the west, yearning for the great cumulus towers that signal the end of this long drought.
Not today, not today the sky whispers from its dome of intense blue. It is not yet the time.
Photo courtesy of the author.
