To Provence! ! Poem by Gayle Sweeney

It was spring then
And my niece was a student in Paris.
My sister and I had flown from Boston together
For a visit.
Outside of a chateau in Provence
With my niece I climbed
The ancient ascending stone steps.
Suddenly there was a dove flying up above us.
The clear sky shined like powdery
Pastel bluebells.
In my heart
A joyful song flew, too, as if showered by the pretty sunshine and diamond dew.

On a drive around a magical corner
Before the three us -
All at once was the village of Gordes in the sun -
Built into a hillside
And made from honey white colored stones
With the help of the Lord.
In the church stood a statue
Of dear Saint Joan D'Arc
Where it had quietly welcomes all for years with heaven.
The wondrous ceiling at the altar
Of majestic blue was still beckoning
Visitors to kneel.
.

I was awestruck
By the place each stone had
Along the cobbled village walkways
And the thought of France in her glory
And flowering Paris today.
The freedom the old countryside was holding onto
Far and wide so beautifully
Beyond the village left a lasting impression
To see.

Provence arises and touches
The bright celestial blue.
The magnificent City of Lights to the north
Is as always for sparkling hearts so true.
Moments come and go
Along curving lanes and footpaths that bring lasting mirth.
We can love what we hold so dear
And cherish the golden seeds we've learned to sow in the earth.