After a Frugal Lunch

a poem by Roger B Rueda

I lay on a mossy passage at the foot of a tree
thinking how hard it would be to find
in any quarter of the earth
a place more fair and fragrant
than this hidden spot in Iloilo.
The perfume of the wild flowers
of the field is
more sweet
and subtle than the heavy scent
of garden blossoms.
No field could give
a fragrance half so magical
as the fairy odour
of these meadows,
soft carpeted with green
of glossy grass over.
Nor are there any birds more
lovely
in colour than the birds proudly
showing their
gold and lime, ginger and black,
blue and white
against the dark background
of bushes.
But how seldom I put a cup
of pleasure without a dash of bitters.