Beaujolais Days
By orangedream
Published: July 15, 2008
Updated: July 18, 2008

She sits alone, grey head nodding,
straw hat tilted to cover her eyes
in the shade of the vine-covered veranda

pistachio-green leaves climb ever higher
entwined around age-old oak beams
as the marron-rouge grapes ripen

in the noonday heat, as greedy wasps
compete for their share of the feast
a harvest long-since ever reaped.

She drifts to sleep, smoky-pink tamarisk
wafts in the breeze straw hat tumbles,
flutters to the ground, the only sound

the high-pitched whine of the hoverflies
as they vie for a space beneath the corrugated roof
of the run-down veranda she helped him build
in the long-hot summer of their youth.