photo: a path leading to Ligar Bay, considered as one of the very beautiful beaches of Golden Bay
if I were a path
I would lead to the beach
all year round
but especially in summer
I would spy on the children
I would like their games
and then the confidences
of the older ones
whispered, sneered at,
I would listen to them
and protect them
photo : near the Matai river, a morning walk in a beautiful light that feels a little like the end of summer
we would resume/
the conversation /
where we left it/
a long time ago/
near the river/
God! the clarity of the water/
our sad and grave airs/
in the thinness of the air/
would evaporate/
in the thinness of the air/
of which only nostalgia/
was left/
not even bitter/
but a little desire /
nonetheless to go back/
to rebuild ourselves
photo: Nelson Botanic Garden (a first: I mention flowers in a poem)
Wishing for the Shadowy side/
through the open window. Yes/
The curtain and the light breeze/
It’s time to /
Dry the rose petals/
a year like any other. /
The weight of things
prose poem inspired by Baudelaire’s prose poems « Little poems in prose » published during the last twelve or thirteen years of his life. Most of the poems were published in various journals, but fifty or so of them were published together in 1869, two years after his death, according to the introduction to the small bilingual collection found at Featherston, near Wellington, in a second hand bookstore.
Of course, we talked in the slowness of the day about the taste of chardonnay. The beach was rocky and the wild fennel smelled good. The dog was bored in the water. We would climb the hill, the view, the view of the bay! we would come back next summer. We were lucky because it was sunny and people were picnicking quietly.
