A new story begins of a second new life in France

September 2011 - the approach of Autumn

I can hear the water flowing deeper

in the rippling, rappling river,

amidst the shifting shafts of sunlight sparkling through the bending boughs.

I can feel the brisk, breeze blowing

in my face, hair tingling, tangling 

causing me to shake my head in laughter to see again the view.

I can hear the regular, rhythmic trudge

as I climb the rugged slope,

avoiding rocks and roots of trees for space where feet can be placed.

I can see the change of season

as the browns and greens transform

the track of the leafy, shady arbour where many have walked before.

I can crunch the sharp, black, juicy fruit

of blackberries untouched,

Fronds of fennel, oregano wild and sweet pink marjoram clutched.

I can knock the dark brown walnuts

out of their green protective case,

one stamp and wiggle out nutmeat, to eat as a tasty treat.

I can smell the warmth of history

as I pass the secret garden gate

of a tiny hidden house overhanging forbidden Magdalenian caves.

I can be the buzzard flying

gracefully, regally, high

above the earth-brown, autumn tilled field, eagle eyes searching for prey.

Praise the wind, the sun and earth

for all that it supplies

to give me hope and radiance -  a feast before my eyes.

I can tread these walks of a village I love,

choose a new path every day,

celebrate the gift of life, for tomorrow, we know not come what may.

This is this.

A gift for all my friends.