We stood on Mount Parnassus
Gazing down toward the gulf of Corinth.
The olive groves wound downhill to the cleft
between the hills. The distant bleat of lambs blended
with the tinkle of the bells around their necks.
The first notes of birdsong stirred the air.
The scent of thyme was in our nostrils
We clung together for warmth in the early morning chill.

Suddenly the sun rose, and a golden shaft of light
Flashed through the gap and up the hillside
Turning the olive trees from black to green.
Golden light touched the vineyards
The peaceful beauty trembled
As from the U.S. base, three jets roared upward
and thundered across the hills.
Early morning sounds came from the village.
Dogs barked - voices murmured.
The day had dawned.
We turned and went in search of coffee.