Ramon Poem by Morgan Michaels

The next few days passed slowly but agreeably.

Irrigated by a tributary, his cousin's land lay beyond sight of the river traffic for which the city was famous. It also lay beyond sight of the town itself, so the farm was unphased by urban hustle and bustle- even at a distance. It wasn't so different from home, Ramon decided. He came to think of the famous city of Sevilla as a backwater and after a week felt the farm compared unfavorably with his father's, at home. He yearned for the novelty of Madrid. His cousin's daughters (there were three) were attractive enough and wonderfully attentive, but failed to spark interest. They showed him great deference, to be sure, and listened awe-stricken at the dinner table as he described life in the colony- slave uprisings and syncretism and exotic dances and such. But they seemed woefully ignorant of Parisian styles and he could learn nothing on that score to tell Julia Wholesome, gracious and upright, they read no newspapers and so had no opinions. They were docile and orthodox in every way- unlike his Julia, who could be demanding. By contrast, if he smiled and said 'you're looking well, today, my dear', she stared back at him with blushful adoration till he abandoned the habit, not wishing to misrepresent them. They took everything so seriously.