Je vois une femme
mais, je ne peut pas voir
ce qu’elle voit
(sitting alone in the garden)
I cannot
know what she feels
or is thinking
Have her thoughts been
carried up into le ciel
by a passing coccinelle, or
is she planted
firmly on the ground
dans sa chaise, lost
In the pleasure of the moment
Who knows?
Another summer of drought the Matta, Ni and Po rivers come and go signs noted along the highway At the Rappahannock I become aware how devastating the absence of rain has been there is little evidence a river ever ran through here, but Somewhere to the southeast the Rappahannock gathers its waters once again unto…
Planning a return to France began in January – a far reach from youth, when ‘the plan’ was nothing (but) a plane ticket, suitcase and love As winter ebbed and Spring came into bloom I deleted items from my list: étudier la langue (at the top) confirm passports, airline tickets technology requirements to stay in…
How far? I ask (is the ocean) whenever we are somewhere the ocean is not – often comes the reply “not far..” (Perhaps a few hour’s or a day’s drive) ‘Not far’ is a distance measured on the scent of a breeze something palpable in the atmosphere in fog rolling across the land ‘Not far’…
I love the sense of freedom and quiet the sights sounds and smells that I experience on an early morning walk Rabbits silently lope from spot to spot in search of breakfast an old dog greets us from well within his castle gates Occasionally someone else is also up and walking usually (like me) with…
Starting at the river Abercorn charts its course through the Historic District Victorian District, into Ardsley Park where 20th century takes hold and on past bungalows of the fifties and sixties Derenne marks the break where past and present meet the world to the right across the intersection – anachronistically into the sky – rises…
Car packed slowly we pull away (from the curb?) Leaving Dog cats, kids sleepless nights final projects, exams sprinkled throughout the city all – left behind and wrapped in the sultry fragrance of an early Savannah morning Off the tree caught in my backward glance I break one bud to take with us Every five…