In Turenne, Contentment
in the laughter and coffee and plums on a sunny terrace
and the green freedom of a French holiday
with the adjacent rooftops that buckle then rise
again and the great valley beneath deep as a pleasured sigh
fills daily with fog routinely as a morning cuppa. I dream
a little of a sustained life this simple, this happy
gentleness where food and drink weigh
importantly upon our thoughts. The song is foreign, tiny
cigales vibrate as ivy tendrils round our table we recount old
stories and drink champagne by three. Our boys
tumble among the wasps creating their own stories. We
gather more plums and brew another pot and wait for the sun.
words and image by Lisa Murphy-Lamb September 2010
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