Portugal

Portugal On the tree lined avenue in Loulé leaves are beginning to fall, still green even if a bit paler than normal. It is afternoon and September, but still hot. Sparrows are flying in from the inland it is safer in the town then in the upland where sharp eyed hawks prey on them. I have been told that in Italy they catch the birds with big nets, and eat them. Plucked, one cannot be much of a meal one has to eat at last ten to be full. Mao, in China, tried to remove sparrows because they were eating too much crops, an act of utter futility, but then people with total power go stark raving mad. I enjoy this moment of subdued day light the ills of the world is far away. I know of a county called Portugal I came here and learned to live again.