The Dordogne Poems 1
cloudless blue, warm, still,
the field left to grass, the
house cat hides behind
thistles to stalk mice,
as the morning waxes
hay rolls seem to glisten
in the field and cow parsley
heads all face the same
way as if at a religious
gathering, it is Sunday
after all, the tranquil hiss
and hum of the countryside
the only hymn being played,
for some this is a holy day
so, quietly I say my prayer,
blessing my loved ones and
secretly I allow myself
redemption
© Graham R Sherwood 08/25
Stephen Gospage
Mon 11th Aug 2025 14:42
We were regular visitors some years ago, Graham. Your series of poems brings it all back. Enjoy yourselves, despite the heat.