there is a stirring in the treetops of the mulberry
willow
oak
as though the august earth wished for rain
under the great oak is a bench where I sit
sometimes at dusk
it faces lime cliffs and the remains of a village called
“le vieux castillon” abandoned centuries ago
still as a tree stump i sit just looking
the garden cat’s tail weaves through grasses
to join me
she is a master at walking gracefully
and sitting still
once we saw two foxes feasting on fallen plums
and a young boar standing stock still in the meadow
looking towards us
wild creatures bend to drink from the translucent spring
contributed by Giselle Maya, France
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