Haiku From France

Two lovers kissing

Sunday Luxembourg Garden

They know nothing else

 

There are no baguettes

To be found outside of France

All else is just bread

 

Le Jardin des Plantes

Abloom as the day retires

Late sun warms my back

  

Anticipation

Eager as the rising dough

Of a fine baguette

 

Les Chiens de Paris

Confidantes and contents

Ils nous ignorents

 

Rue Saint-Honore

Where pretension has a price

A mendicant squats

 

I have lived here twice

Once before I was designed

Encore maintenant

 

The organ grinders

Fill the morning with their songs

March’e a Dimanche

 

Paris has blue eyes

That see style in all things

Flamboyant and small

 

The images waft

Lighter than surrounding air

Linen in pink light

 

Low in the water

The fisher returns at dusk

Net filled with the catch

 

A clear morning sky

Peace beyond understanding

No wind stirs the day

To ride a giraffe 

It's best to be a child

On the carousel

 

Beneath fair Paris

An iron serpent hisses

Humans in its maw

 

The last leaves tremble

Over damp carious piles

Withstanding winter

 

Au revoir Paris

Remember the love we’ve shared

Hold me in your heart

 

In the gloaming light

Strings resound in Saint Chapelle

Stained glass glows with song

 

Realm of kings and christ

Gilded monuments of faith

Shaped by poor hard hands

 

Once full and verdant

The days are dry and brittle

Cracking under foot

 

At the boulangerie

Pain au raisin swirls delight

Mon dieu! C’est Plaisir

 

Normandy whispers

A reassuring story

Of Mont-Saint-Michel

 

Far away they sing

Under the light of the same stars

Colors come and go

 

Leaves fly through Paris

Cast by the howl of autumn

Then float down the Seine

 

Like a patient dog

Even when the door’s open

Home will wait for us

 

Away from the chic

France disrobes a fertile breast

Of pastures and fields

 

The slow Norman cow

Bespectacled and herdless

Turgid with sweet milk