Dordogne August 7th



Dawn arrives,

stiff breeze,


growling of the



old olive

stands sentinel:


beached, as I am

by fate’s fickle




Swallow’s swoop

the pool line



creep in


you & I

so young,


the children

at our feet.


Did we ever

dream of




Palms wave;

the house




but I,

still alive


leap from

tangled sleep


to salute

how we lived


& loved here.

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