Always I arrive light & always you tell me, Here

you turn dark. So much had I wanted to come

to the country; the white wash, the dusty roads,

the stone houses, verdant fields, yet the land

disappoints. It is land as any other. No matter the land

of your youth, the house, the old dog long dead.

Land is land is land…

Yes, love, the fields below are yellow, shades of green,

the houses rising, rooftops snaking about the village.

and yet for all of this desire, this beauty, I feel confined.

The introvert comes out, shows her plain face to the night

leaving me stupid, clam shut. With the rich

perfume of pear about my lips, my chin

I lay on a smile. I say all is well.

The benefit of others.

09/24/05 , Pressigny , France