La Pointe Du Dragon
Ile Ste. Marguerite, July 2nd
In a greyish blue lagoon,
The Esterel snoozes like a stegosaurus
Underneath a latte sky.
To the leeward, beyond Antheor
A white sail appears like
A fallen dragon’s tooth.
In front the Aleppo parasols the cove,
Stooping like an aged retainer while
Galettes gleam as treacherous jewels in the shallows.
A tolling bell mediates the birdsong;
And then far off, the rhythmic hum of diesel
Reminds me of a relentless assailing world.