nez dans les fleurs du cerisier
l’odeur persistante de merguez
***
sweet cherries in bloom
my toddler falls asleep
with my name on the lips
***
fin Avril
enfin de belles journées
pour le fou du quartier
13 September 2017
Picked in April 2017
By atreewalker
About atreewalker
It was a warm spring morning in the olive grove. The breeze was gentle, the air was fragrant, the time stood still. High grass, sprinkled with colourful small-headed flowers, was gently tickling my knees. Poppies were about to splash their intense red on the antic ruins. 'Look how beautiful it is all over', I whispered to the olive trees, 'a perfect time for a stroll.' I slipped my fingers into the open palms at the end of their branches and I took them for a walk.
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This entry was posted on Wednesday, September 13th, 2017 at 11:29 am and posted in Haïkus, Travel journal/Carnet de voyage. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
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It was a warm spring morning in the olive grove. The breeze was gentle, the air was fragrant, the time stood still. High grass, sprinkled with colourful small-headed flowers, was gently tickling my knees. Poppies were about to splash their intense red on the antic ruins. 'Look how beautiful it is all over', I whispered to the olive trees, 'a perfect time for a stroll.' I slipped my fingers into the open palms at the end of their branches and I took them for a walk.
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