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.