At this point in time, sometimes I need a refresher course in calm. I need to distance myself from reality and go to a place that is quiet and serene. Sublime and calming. My days in France were just that, especially in the small towns we frequented. Where tourists were rare and luxuriant, rain-filled days were filled with naps, crepes were frequent and there was peace and quiet.
Travel with me, if only in your mind, to an afternoon in France…
Rising and Falling…
Rising and falling,
a chest once more filled
with the luxurious air and beautiful scents
of the French house on 10 rue Ferlus.
A vision in the dappled sunlight
and slight shadow of the second floor window
where I worked and wrote
in that Soreze summer as a breeze played
with the hem of her slip,
gently teasing it up and down.
Nipples harden beneath the thin cotton garment;
perhaps from a dream of pleasure,
a dream of love among the clouds
as her body shifted, ever so slightly;
breath quickening, chest rising and falling,
a mouth barely open as if to release
the build up of heat and passion while
hands moved lazily across her stomach
with one moving slowly to a breast
the other slipping to a place…below.
The clip-clop of shoes and sandals
served to announce people
walking along the narrow street below,
seeming as music to her ears,
while she continued the play begun
with the draw of the curtain
and the opening of the window…
I was careful to not move too quickly, too harshly,
during this afternoon of slow movements
and undisturbed luxury on pillows and quilts.
Rising and falling…