Sunday, October 20, 2024
As the season flames
Wednesday, October 2, 2024
The Twelve
The twelve
A whole week we had
so long anticipated, golden glowing
on all our horizons, and now afterwards
shining like a dream
Hot sun, sea September warmed
the shush and swoosh as shore breakers broke
and curled and pulled away.
We sat in the ten euro shade of our well-positioned parasol
and gossiped endlessly, astonished by thongs laughing
wriggled into swimsuits, braved the sea’s strong undertow
for the loveliness of clear blue green.
Alas for a silent jelly fish, and Michael sudden stung.
Long days begun with a rendez-vous at 8, the early morning dip
daily croissant shop, cycle rides and cliff side walks
of tapas at Blau in the heat of midday ( padron peppers! Chipirones! )
Plus two greyer days of Bridge and indoor games
amongst the group always someone for a chat
two Shirley curries, a Tucker quiz, who knew about ditloids,
brains well-teased, a trophy for Woznicas.
As always memorable meals as the sun went down, fire on the water
no golfers this year to pay our bill!
And yet in spite of Covid unwelcome uninvited
headache, sore throat and endless cough cough coughing
Llafranc 2024, one whole week, stretches out in memory, laughter and thongs
Catalonia and tapas, the blessed company of friends, the twelve
so long anticipated.
Blessings counted, blissful, this year’s magic on the Med.
October 2nd 2024 Hounoux, for dear friends
Monday, August 19, 2024
The Magic Box
The magic box
I will put in the box
hot solstice night, full moon, fête de la musique
swifts wheeling and squealing
Woznica’s dancing in the street
2016, all of us hoping, surely, surely we’d remain
I will put in the box
Alan in his DJ raising his baton and his eye-brows
Ros with accordion, Moulin Rouge
the blessed cool of the church
our voices echoing
So many summer garden gatherings
Eileen’s pavlova, salads, tarts
sunsets over châteaux
Is that Penny on the phone?
Hugo and Alan, the American Songbook
tears and laughter
Art and pottery, exhibitions, poetry and plays
Cheryl behind a curtain helpless - as Clive and I got lost
or ditto Jo and Alan, improving on our scripts
the too-much drunken audience hysterical at le Stop
living the dream in the sun and the south.
I will put in my box a memory of lockdown
how we helped each other through
the Friday quizzes, friends in London, Canada
Leo’s Aussie authors, quite unknown
and always Andy, reluctant, dragged in by his wife
I will put in the box the annual excitement
trip to the Costa for sun and sea, sangria
Marek diving to search for a ring
the warmth of the water, the tapas in Calau
the Japanese meal and the tab our new friends paid!
My box has the scent of a parasol pine
It’s decorated with Zinnias and purple sprouting, gifted by Mike
inset with the silver songs of several shades of grey
for it is carved of love and friendships
true friends who care and call when things go wrong
found here in Léran and beyond
a miracle of magic in our triple-locked carte vitale rose-golden years.
19th August 2024, Hounoux
Monday, July 29, 2024
Dancing raisins
Dancing raisins
Sid sits with his grandad
(Sid’s surely a fan)
who’s patiently rebuilding his Rubik cube
despite his disability ( he’s colour-blind)
and we two septuagenarians smile
for Sid is special, has a quirky way with words.
He tells us of a classroom experiment entitled Dancing Raisins
( something to do with gases we assume, though Sid’s not clear)
but beautiful image, twenty seven children rapt, as the raisins after a brief pause
rise, rise and begin their dance
a rumba I’d like to think.
Later Sid tells us that yesterday, when the fog was in the valley
in our house on the edge of a French hill
the clouds came into his room.
I think of marshmallows floating and opportunities for bouncing
or maybe dancing like raisins.
Small moments , two grandparents listening
Sid’s world of enchantment.
29th July 2024 Hounoux, for the visiting Headeys
Sunday, April 14, 2024
The blue, the blue
The blue, the blue
What with the mauve-blue rosemary and lilac
bee-loud as Innisfree, wisteria in festoons
all the hot sun day, blue day,
sharp scented, sweet
you’d want to take a brush or pen
canvas, paper, paint
squeezed tubes of blue in several shades, and gold
to gild and shine,
to hug and hold the cloudless hour
the birdsong, dancing bees
art’s fixative
this perfect April day
16th April 2024 Hounoux
Sunday, March 17, 2024
Where once the serin
Where once the serin
Where once the serin perched to sing
the sweetest high-pitched notes,
canary song,
his tree long moribund is axed, for safety first
despite my special pleading
for his spot, this destination
the miracle of annual return
bright tiny flyer
navigating here from Africa.
How many days and miles to our garden
behind the washing line, close by the damson tree
always the same bare branch
the flash of yellow, sweet high song
and me, rejoicing
for spring and his return.
17th March 2024 Hounoux
Monday, March 11, 2024
Mothers’ Day 2024
In the cut-out squares, pinked, so unfrayed
perfect
top left the sun at dawn
gilding the layered land.
Next the gift of tulips, purple, not yet languid
a swarm of tiny bees, mimosa flowers
then Lily’s memory of games we played
tea party in the fig tree (hidden)
Next row left to right, too-early blossom
plum and almond, bridal white,
Bee’s message to her mum, love letter
my mum, laughing.
Along the bottom, blessings
peaceful hours, log fire, the satisfaction of squares
complex pattern, dark and light
friends loved and lost.
Patchwork pieces, a one day, Sunday
legacy of loveliness.
March 11th 2024, Hounoux