Sounds of Madeira

I've pegged out the washing,
a freezing job;
in raw, breezy January
fingers throb

but incongruous billow
of sleeveless top,
swimsuit and shorts,
makes me stop

and enjoy warm thoughts,
bringing ever nearer
recent memories
of mild Madeira

obscuring the pulse
of a local bus,
wet wheels on tarmac
and squawk of rooks

till I hear again
sounds that smile and
cheer my mind
from sub-tropical island:

twitter of finches,
a cricket's bright note,
the cry of a solitary
sheep or goat

or lonely cow,
a cockerel's crow,
trickles and drips
where levadas flow.

And suddenly winter
seems warmer and clearer
by simply remembering
dear Madiera.

poem © Celia Warren 2013

I'd happily turn back the clock to this time last week!