The sun glints on a nail-varnished sea,

Before the darkening mountains of the Esterel

Bring Autumn here.

The waves twinkle as if lit by random solar lights

And land gently on the thirsty sand.

An infant gull looks hopeful

And maintains a 360 degree vigil,

As Jonny Guitar comes with nonchalant cap,

Strumming in the privacy of his own space;

Behind the women of Bijou place tablecloths,

Position blackboard menus and bring aperitifs to Friday guests.

The fish is good today,

Like the atmosphere, the happy relic of another age.


11 October, 2013