Sanxay Roman Picnic
Druid rocks dot an outline
viewed by a low-flying airplane;
a cross lies in quiet grass.
I kneel, hands clasped,
pray to Apollo in his ruins,
his chapel stones and hard remains.
The sweet pea twines my finger,
soft and living, pliable; and the white
daisy snaps its tiny yellow eye.
Jeanne DeLarm-Neri
Greenwich Branch, CT
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These are lovely images. An airplane flying in the air, a cross in the the grass, Apollo in his ruins.
Vivid and moving. Best to you Jeanne De-Larm-Neri.
MAME,
DO YOU MEAN SAXANY? WHAT IS SANXAY IF YOU DO WANT THIS SPELLING?
THANK YOU
BARB WHITMARSH
NLAPW – ST. LOUIS
This poem is especially nice in its “smallness.” It celebrates a “small moment” and the sights and sounds that surround it. But it’s clear that this moment is spiritual, and that comes across beautifully. I love the imagery!
Hi, Barb,
Good question! Here is a link to a website about the Gallo-Roman ruins at Sanxay (yes, correct spelling) in France. I’m ready to go, aren’t you?
http://sanxay.monuments-nationaux.fr/en/