The Road to Provence

The perfume of earth and olives
fifty shades of green
deep cypress frames guilded eucalyptus
in heat as dry as a nut.
Oleandar like home
signs for snails, peaches and Brousse de Rove
a deer crossing
a lone cyclist
a family picnic on the side of the road.
What sound?
dogged, implacable, deafening
the song of the Chicada
that starts with the dawn
and probably drove Van Gogh crazy.
The road to Saint Remy
pungent with pine
vines like soldiers guarding the ancient terroir
against the riot of sunflowers.

Dusky light
sets fire to the rock
the vividness of youth on every face
as day turns to night
and the chicadas sleep.

4 thoughts on “The Road to Provence

  1. Oh Alison …how lovely!! Those cicadas..we heard them hiking in Calif..an unforgettable,,quite awful, sound!! Your words paint a lovely picture!!!!

    Sent from my iPad

    >

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