... in Santa Catarina Park, Funchal.
Lines written in Funchal
Quaffing our coffees in gentle sea breezes,
swimming in hotel-rooftop pools,
hearing the warble of hidden canaries,
leisure to gain and nothing to lose.
Sipping tangerine ponchas in tiny glasses,
watching gulls rise and glide aloft,
waiting for waves to dance around rocks
and spray passers-by with windblown salt.
Seeing a headland glow in sunlight,
hearing the blast of a cruise-ship's horn,
tracing the length of the wide horizon,
gigantic Atlantic spreads on and on.
Here we are warm while our homeland shivers,
summer-like days, while in Britain it snows,
lizards and butterflies soak up the sunbeams,
as we, and our lives, and everything slows.
© Celia Warren 2017
Today we visited the cemetery associated with the English Church and found lots of interest there. Beforehand we knew nothing of Sara Forbes Bonetta - born a West-African princess, sold into slavery, was liberated and became a god-daughter of Queen Victoria. She married and, after having three children, died young of TB in Funchal in 1880.
Stopping for a coffee, we sampled queojada cake - a cheesecake, a bit like a scone, but sweeter and softer. Delicious! Spent some time in Santa Catarina Park, watching butterflies, looking down on the harbour (two new cruiseships), and enjoying the fountains' rainbows.
This afternoon I spent on the hotel rooftop and, despite the chilly wind, braved a short swim in the pool, with the sun just warm enough to dry me off, while I read. Now the wind's dropped on a warm, sunny evening, and the whitecaps have left the ocean waves. Sigh. Only a few more days left, but still loving every minute on this island.