How to Remember

Adrift

Tobacco jostles with wheat fields

crisp green vineyards run in parallel lines

across the first tentative hills.

A village, clustered around a church steeple,

-space-

then another village.

 

Low footpaths embedded with limestone gravel

Grass – darker green and shimmering everywhere –

can this be home to a long distant stranger

Thin narrow valleys winding up into mountains,

pines clinging to steep hills,

pale river stones adrift in molten snow.

 

 

The place where we stood and looked over the back of a mountain

in the fading light, vast and solid

more real than anything else around

Grey and white snow clad.

And the delicate way my father ran his hands

along the bark of a larch,

like it was a woman’s skin.

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2 Comments Add yours

  1. mumsthewordblog1 says:

    What a beautiful photo. Looks so peaceful and green 😃🦉

    Liked by 2 people

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