from England’s busy south-east…

From busy South East England, I came to Parthenay to write, during a chilly and damp period in March. I was very taken with the calm, the acceptance, the respect, the beauty.  Whether I was in little shops or the HyperU supermarket, going round the museum, visiting the Tourist Information office or walking by the…

Lenny’s first day out

There is something unforgettable about first times…do you remember the last time you had a first time for something? Never too late…..

shadow offering

The banks of the River Thouet are speckled with dandelions. They are so cheerful, with their rise-and-shine faces as if the plant world had just manifested the essence of smiles. Just one week before they were not here, but now they look up at me with their bright plump faces, the plumpest I have seen…

not waiting for Spring

I watched an old man crying into a baby’s arms And I watched a soldier dying after promising no harm I saw that time was flying like the dust of his last lie But something kept me turning towards Something deep inside. Seasons come down to me, hold me, bring me here now Seasons remind…

the Parthenay viaduct

Fighting back vertigo, I cautiously lean over the viaduct’s north rail. Below me the sunken roof of the abandoned Old Mill of God, sinks peacefully into the Solstice mist. The mist wraps everything in a layer of reminiscences, as if the past is seeping gradually yet inexorably into the present. The Pathenay viaduct is nothing…

a walk along the tracks

An abandoned train station has a loneliness all its own. A hub of motions, of all manner of comings and goings, new exchanges and intersections, has been rendered utterly still. As if time has frozen over. Scrub grows between the tracks like exclamation marks of this presiding stillness. And yet the architecture of all this…

touch the sky

If a flower whispers its thirst to the cloud, when the cloud wants nothing more than to rain, this is harmony.