Le Potager
The road wraps round the hill of Parisot.
and I am bound to climb that hill
to look again ,
into that little space behind a fence
where the old couple
sit beneath the damson tree..
The garden rises …. falls and undulates
folded in that summer breeze….
The butterfly on new found wings
bats silently
here in the Midi Pyrenees….
…the beans , mange tout… the strawberries
the onions… broccoli and herbs….
The couple’s efforts will not change
the chaos of the world beyond
Their row of peas will not stop wars…
September apples falling to the ground
cannot appease the chronic illness
of mankind..
But …still we know
….there is a deeper knowledge
Than brutality and gore.
Beyond the labours of the hoe.
There is the gift of understanding how things grow
The love of land and berries sweet
the nectar in the rose
and grapes crushed underfoot…
There is a rhythmic order
in this corner of the world.
In this small universe
where the old couple sit
to watch the sun go down
On a tormented world.
Kristine Byrne summer 2014