I.

Melos Villa rests quietly
in the secluded hills
of Santorini where
the early morning sun
rouses us each morning
goading us up the
whitewashed steps
for yoghurt and honey.
Kostas pauses his care-taking
to smile - Kaliméra filoi! -
turning to re-sweep the shadows
of our footsteps
once we had passed.

II.

In Vourvoulos
Stavros invites us
into his kitchen
to help us choose our dinner
waiting to recommend a wine
that will complement
the brininess of the sea
and the metallic teardrops
of his son’s bouzouki,
entertaining us as we eat
with the live octopus
we had gracefully declined,
all of us squirming.

III.

Midnight at Taverna Erato
the old couple
otherwise nameless
serves us house wine and mezes
their efficient inattention met
with tacit approval from
the black cat on the sill
waiting for bed,
the stone-cobbled patio
unsteadying the tables
still rife with stories and laughter
livened by the hosts’ unmetered ouzo,
muted now by the stillness of the hour.

IV.

Maria the shopgirl sews
small leather purses
as we eye her uncle’s pottery,
suggesting we should consider
an enameled plate,
waiting as we choose two
before closing the shop
for the habit of her afternoon nap
tucking a newly-finished purse
into our bags
with a handwritten note;
Efcharistó! Filiá, María

V.

Where the Aegean Sea
begins to mingle with the
warmer waters of
its Mediterranean body
we lounge at Perissa beach
taking refuge from
the afternoon sun
under a thatched umbrella
just off the black volcanic sand,
sharing horiatiki and retsina
(and a few Marlboros)
with Ana and George,
come all the way from Athens
to practice their English.

VI.

The Greeks are blessed by nature
as all cradle peoples are,
their Sun’s radiant purity
charming endless abundance
from impatient fertile soils,
the bounty of the wine-dark sea
tasting of life itself;
even the meltemia that blow
for days on end
carry the songs of the gods and
the perfume of time.

VII.

Something this beautiful
of course needs a name
lest it fade away
and we who are strangers
forget the Greek mindfulness
that infuses even the smallest acts
with meraki,
the gift of one’s essence,
having practiced for millenia
the giving that expands the heart
and nourishes the soul.