Cloudy Day
It got dark. Leaden clouds covered the opposite
mountains, the chimneys, the olive grove. Yet
a vague gleam still shivered. We looked around:
on the upper part of the garden, a broom was
leaning against the sun-dried brick wall. Ion’s broom
made of laurel branches; the broom he used
to sweep the temple each dawn.
Libros Libertad 