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
walk.
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
     joy
 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
by
cool, deep water,
and silence.


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

the path I didn’t expect to go.

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