Fountain of the Geese

We walked together on a
Cool, clear day, hands clasped lightly
As we made our way through the narrow streets of
The old Gothic quarter.
We turned our faces to the sky to
Feel the warm glow of the sun on our skin,
A sun that cast a brighter light here,
So close to the sea,
Than we had known elsewhere.

Along our path we passed
Tiny shops selling candies shaped like fruits,
And sidewalk cafes serving nothing but pots of mussels.
As we passed an alley, we peered down it to see
A tiled courtyard with a fountain in the center, and
You noticed the scent of almonds
In the air,
A scent that drove you to squeeze my hand a bit tighter
And to lean in to kiss me.

Finally, the streets opened to a wide avenue and there,
We climbed the steps to the cathedral.
“Oh, this is just like all the others we have seen,” I said,
But you pulled me through the heavy, dark doorway and
Turned and said,
“No, in the center of this old church is something surprising.
Trust me.”

We walked down the side aisles, past the ornate altars,
Pausing to look up at the statues of sad-faced saints and martyrs,
Our faces lit by the fluttering of banks of tiny votives.
We dug into our pockets for coins to leave behind,
And I stole a look at you
With your eyes gently closed
For a second or two.

Wandering down the nave, we
Passed an ornate staircase that led down,
Down right into the belly of the great church,
To a cozy sanctuary, tiled and lit with tall candles, where
A baptism was taking place,
A couple holding their infant in their arms,
Surrounded by their families and the beaming priest
In his embroidered robes.
It felt intrusive to linger, so we walked on and then
You saw the sign to the cloister, and said,
“There it is. Your surprise.”

Moving through the gateway, the dark interior of the church
Gave way to sparkling sunlight trickling through the leaves of
Palms and magnolia trees, petals and leaves fluttering to the
Cool slate floor of a garden, here,
In the middle of this old cathedral.
The scent of oranges, of flowers, of clean flowing water,
All filled me with a sense of wonder, and of peace, as we
Strolled into this unexpected space.
And then, amazingly, I heard a low, rhythmic sound,
The sound of geese, squawking in a chorus of complaints,
Thirteen fat white geese, living in the middle of
A cathedral, in this ancient city,
All trotting in a line and hopping into
A fountain.
A well.
“It’s the Fuente de las Ocas,” you said. “The geese number thirteen
To mark the years that the martyred saint lived on this earth.”

I didn’t stop to think about the poor girl who died young and
Gave the church its name and reason for being,
I only thought about the perfect white feathers,
The glistening water of the well,
The scent of fresh blossoms and waxy green leaves,
And the feel of your palm against mine.
I dug my hand into my pocket to see
If I had one more coin left,
And felt
A strange little foreign penny,
Useless for any purchase except this one,
And I grasped it in my fingers,
Leaned up against the wire encasement around the sacred well and
Tossed it through,
Hearing the splash as it tore the surface of the water.
“Did you make a wish?” you asked me, and I
Simply nodded, and you held my hand even tighter and said,
“So did I.”