Provencal France
by Susan Dale
In mornings of green liquid lights
Sultan snails inch
morning pilgrimages
To barrel bushes of astringent lavender
Straight up in purple spikes
In the nave of afternoon angelus
The sun falls in golden showers
On Cezanne’s pale mountain
On pale stucco villas
On red tile roofs
All basking in drowsy torpors
Cathedrals and chateaus
Carousals spinning with silent horses
And Van Gogh’s silver filigree nights
Carrying absinthe stars
and vagabond moons
Lunar clouds in mistral skies
Falling into jeweled waters
Caressing,
curveting around
A Mediterranean’s rocky shores
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