Food forgotten, a glass of wine at hand,
in awe of glaciers shimmying down the slope,
they will be here long after we are gone.
Jambalaya and cauliflower soup, bread, butter
at Pension Gimmelwald, wine du canton deVaud,
dark beer, his hand on my knee, I watch
the glaciers crawl towards me, they will
be here long after I am gone and
the whipped cream on my chocolate cake
has flattened to a white pool on the plate.
Streams are singing down the mountainsides
small tracks climb the valleys to glaciers that
will be here long after I am gone.
Why not stay?
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment