JUNE NIGHT, FRANCE

June 19, 1995   Frogs by the hundreds belch lust Into the June night. Their croaking drowns My thoughts so that   I am only muscle and bone Holding soft insides: Lungs, kidneys, liver, guts, Shiny parts working together To keep my heart beating.   I watch this moist And glistening bag of organs Moving… Continue reading JUNE NIGHT, FRANCE

DREAM CANOEING

  We glide silently across still water, like Venetian lovers. My oarsman’s deep strokes scarcely disturb The black water, though I peer, anxious, Over the side of this unstable craft.   We enter a narrow lock Crowded with oblivious ships , This absurd vessel tipping With the slightest shift;   I hold my breath to… Continue reading DREAM CANOEING

BLACKBERRIES FOR AMELIA

Fringing the woods, the stone walls, and the lanes,Old thickets everywhere have come alive.Their new leaves reaching out in fans of fiveFrom tangles overarched by this year’s canes. They have their flowers too, it being June,And here or there in brambled dark-and-lightAre small, five-petaled blooms of chalky white,As random-clustered and as loosely strewn As the… Continue reading BLACKBERRIES FOR AMELIA

Westward Bound

The day after tomorrow at this time I’ll be in the air on my way to the land of my birth.  It will have been close to 10 months since I have been back. I had to forego the December-January trip because my Achilles tendon let me down, so to speak, and so I haven’t… Continue reading Westward Bound

Dinner Party

We had our first one hundred-percent Shere-ite dinner party on Saturday.  Eight people were invited, and all of them said yes. They even seemed pleased to be asked.   My first friend here, the thin dog-walker, arrived, looking elegant in wide black trousers and a full-sleeved wrap around blouse, accompanied by my soon-to-be painting pal, the … Continue reading Dinner Party

BREATHING OUT – AUTUMN

I sense the season shift, Though outwardly, nothing much is changed. The air continues warm.  In the afternoon, It will be hot again. Only an edge of coolness lingers In early morning.  In the eveningLight mellows, shadows lengthen andDeepen.  The sky is a paler blue. Mostly, though, it is the hush,As if all nature has… Continue reading BREATHING OUT – AUTUMN

POST-MISTRAL

During the night a Fearful wind battered the shutters Against the stones, and Screamed down the chimney, A maniacal ghost whirling dead ashes, Flinging the kitchen door open, Smashing it against the wall, Shattering the panes. This silent morning-after, Only broken glass, ashes everywhere Witness to the night’s frenzy. Leaves in the grape arbor whisper,… Continue reading POST-MISTRAL

Olive-Onion Boule

Our 17th century kitchen doesn’t have an open hearth with a spit for roasting venison, but still, it feels like it could have.  There is a cubby hole in one wall that clearly used to be an oven with a fire underneath.  Now, it hides recycling containers and a rubbish bin.  Next to it is… Continue reading Olive-Onion Boule