(from the moon series - Camino de Santiago edition)
I wake up to the bells, struck twelve times
and I wonder about the days in the fields
of the farms, in the streets of the towns
when no one had a watch and I wonder
how the church measured time, how
they knew it was noon, and I wake up
to the birds and my body aches
in this hand made stone building
and I wake to voices and hunger
and I wake without alarm, without time,
just the yells of cats and the sun inching
along the floor, in through the half door
wooden, and I wake expecting my friends
in the early afternoon in Baamonde.
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