“I believed in Zeus & Apollo & not in Christ,
and the nun: ‘well,
it’s all the same religion.’
She was Italian, after all…”
The golden dust footprint-deep on the road
& the air golden with sun-light
& around any turning of the road a tree or a god,
a god or a goddess,
ivy-tressed,
skin the color of sun-light,
dusted with gold, dust of autumn grapes,
the old wise eyes, half-lidded, —
“She turned her eyes to me,
and she inclined her head, so;
and the light of the golden hour
shone on her shoulder,
and on her soft throat,
and I came to her there…”
Image: Morning Glory by Andrew Birch, published under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.0 Generic (CC BY-NC-ND 2.0) license.
Bag of Anything 
Dreamy atmosphere conjured up, familiar yet faintly sinister. (And the indenting seems to work OK!)
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