November 2011

 

NOVEMBER 2011

She walks along the village street where houses made of stone

hide and then reveal an ancient proud chateau

rising high to meet the sky.

She greatly wonders with surprise at this edifice vast and tall

and whose immense imagination

laboured to create such a visual foil.

She marvels at the awesome sight where none have lived since ancient times

and stands to stare in disbelief

like a visitor for the very first time.

She continues walking downward strokes a cat along the way

until she comes to her favourite place 

a mirror for antiquity, a pretty water way.

She stands to listen better

To the silence of the river

As it travels ever lower

Listens to the talking river

Hears the water chattering over

The weir babbling drops together

As thoughts and smiles of laughter

Walk precariously by the river

Broken branches stepping over

Rocks stones and mosses gather

In awe hearing mighty water

Like a child of Hiawatha

Alone with Mother Nature

Golden brown and fading ochre

Cling to trees as Autumn cover

Carpets leafed grey-brown-a-flutter

Scuffle shuffle smell and wonder

River winds around the corner

Of the silhouetted verdure

Forgets her other culture

City life and social banter

Forgets crowds and people chatter

Remembers though the fun and laughter

Remembers holding hands with youngster

Throwing stones in ocean water

Splash. Allow the sea to chase her.

Remember. Arm in arm. A lover.

Hear the buzzard screel and the caw of crows

Marvel at musky damp beneath her toes

Emanating from stones and leaves

Mother earth and moist wet trees

The sight of vivid verdant emerald

Of grass-bright-green moss-cushions-gold

Wonder the source of this wild French river
As Azerables joins the Gartempe and ponder

The damp wet beauty and olfactory aroma.

Evp November 2011