Swizzle Stick

Brantome: a Vignette

A triangle of ducks sail by
on the glitter of the river
aux Jardins d'au Delà

& my deep peace is bliss
in the Romanesque bell-tower
shadow, maybe the oldest one

in France. In this Venice
du Périgord I have walked
miles over stones with centuries,

in a dancing summer haze.
Now on my light jacket we sit
& in smooth silence open

our bottle of Merlot,
Château Vieille Tour
paid for with coins

& poured into plastic cups.
Our marriage in its infancy
is still intact. We raise

our cups in a silent toast.
Another ray of elegant ducks
sails on by up the river, & away.