Crete, summer 2015
by Pat Seman
The wind turned savage
this spring unseasonal
bore down from the North
so strong a man couldn’t stand
upright under its battering
    and cold so cold
brought towering waves that smashed
beaches sucked out the sand
spat back a thin steep shelf of pebbles

the land turned sour under its salt breath
trees stripped of their frail blossoms

now summer
        and in our garden
no olives no mulberries
no fragrant lemons no crimsoning
pomegranates weigh down branches
just a few shrivelled grapes cling to the vine
the fig tree fights to bear its fruit
tiny green fists clenched tight hard
           no time to ripen
      swell with sweetness
it will be a lean harvest this year.