vendredi 17 juillet 2015

Mâlain Diaries 12

Mâlain Diaries 12

It was down a path I didn’t expect to go.
‘Inderdit,’  the GPS broadcast,
  the SatNav objecting to leaving the
long black procession,
paved and sanctioned
by well-meaning government
officials in
bright yellow vests with
cattle pens.

‘Recalculating,’ some long-
latent voice said.
And I left the cool, dark interior
of the car to
Feet down a path I didn’t
expect to go,
down a human laneway,
through tender woods with little
trails looping like the ends of
soft curls dropped
   after a first hair cut.

I walked where I didn’t
know the ending,
expectant in flight and
 as my ancient innerNat
led to tiny winter berries
yellow lilies opening
themselves to a
cavern beyond.

A meteor fell here thousands
of years ago,
     where the path
completed its tour:
  hot sun and Gargantua’s trou, filled
cool, deep water,
and silence.

Not fed by any stream,
   nor city piscine,
it lies here alone
in wait,
  in dépayser

the path I didn’t expect to go.

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