Before you read this poem it is important for you to know that ‘Grasshopper’ bread is the name my neighbours give to a special loaf that they have in the house just for visitors.
Village women cluster round the van
As if to rummage through jumble,
Black hens wanting to peck sweet corn
While the man fumbles over euros
Fluffed up cardies snag on warm crusts
That drag in the air for butter
To the trip of shuttling slip-ons
Not to be out of the house too long.
And Grasshopper bread sits on the shelf
Like a prize bear at ‘Luna park’
(The one that nobody every wins),
Waiting for that dark hopper-in.
Waiting for someone to share the day,
That unexpected visitor
Who always finds an open door
And an open store of stuffed vine leaves.
If the cob goes stale then never mind
On Wednesdays mornings before eight
Fat hens flap about in the coup
Craning for the scoop of ‘Grasshopper.
The van-man stops in the village square
With his bears wrapped in greaseproof bags,
A regular date for the hags,
While their fat hens dance the Syrtaki.
Luna park is the fairground.
Syrtaki is a Greek dance.
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Jane Sharp has lived in Vrahassi, a mountain village in Crete, for the past sixteen years. She has been writing poetry for a lot longer. Her poems have been published in magazines, read on the B.B.C. and have won prizes.
