On the Ría

a place

to marvel at the flight

of birds,

to consider the personality

of water and footprints

in the sand.

 

the swan’s shape

womanly and masculine

simultaneously.

 

Roman Bridge, Spain

Roman Bridge, Spain

 

naked stones

canopied in the arms

of seaweed,

then blanketed

by the tide.

 

the green arms dance, drunk

from drowning.

 

I sit on a beach

far from home,

craving the meals

my mother makes.

 

Girl on the Port, Spain

Girl on the Port, Spain

 

a breeze whistles

through tiny leaves,

pastel purple on brown branches,

fading into the memory

of the passing autumn.

 

the leaves are one hundred

kind whispers,

one thousand

little, applauding hands.

 

two small islands,

each with a tree,

one denser and darker,

more appealing

to look at.

 

Siempre Nuestro, Spain

Siempre Nuestro, Spain

 

I never noticed

the quieter one,

the thinner one.

she stands

on a tilt

as if she wants to sit.

 

or perhaps

she is leaning

to get a better view

of the sun.

 

Photos by Author

Teresa Mupas is currently surviving the rain, teaching English as a foreign language, and stumbling through the learning blocks of the Spanish language in Galicia, Spain. Previously she taught English in Thailand and the United States. She likes paper books, daydreaming and jigsaw puzzles, long “meal-versations,” and compact items that fit neatly and quietly in carry-ons.