Croatia

Honey in bottles of hues changing with the sunlight.

Too many graveyards.

Lavender wrapped in soft purple tulle, tied with a violet ribbon.

Waves of perms in the donated trams.

Where are the young people? Do they hide during the day? Do they sleep?

Nuns with thick glasses carry olive branches.

Easter sells fresh flowers. Leave them for the dead, place them at the altar.

Hills made steeper with grocery bags stop the old in their tracks.

I watch them trapped mid-step in time like the fruit in their liqueur bottles.