Ringing Phone--By Jan Oskar Hansen--Portugal

Ringing Phone

It is a perfectly quiet winter day I listen to distant noise

a dog barks -can`t avoid that in Algarve- smoke from chimneys

goes straight up before disbursing and disappearing.

A few clouds drifts about like wedding dresses of the unmarried

the sun is a golden coin captain Hook would kill for.

I smell grilled sardines, the opening and closing of doors and

a cat sits on a wall watching me.

I sternly tell myself to go for a walk before it gets afternoon and

cold again, but I blithely ignore the voice. I feel so wonderfully

lazy. I drift on a cloud of slothful bliss then the phone rings when

I answer a voice tells me it was a wrong number.

Jan Oskar Hansen is a published poet from Portugal.