Inland Algarve

The Inland Algarve The landscape so oddly shaped Had once been a domestic landscape Walking along narrow cart-wheel Tracks I often come across the remnant Of dwellings that once had housed Poverty-stricken people who had Ploughed small and reluctant fields Olive trees had grown wild and tall Bearing bitter fruit. Sone walls had no purpose sinking Back to earth becoming rocks again. A haunted landscape in the inland Algarve and no one saw it doomed Beauty. Rabbits and boars dominated in peace And sheep grazed in the glooming. Stillness yet I sensed voices that once Had loved and lived struggling Against poverty and early death.