Monday, January 30, 2012

je ne sais quoi

the meal, French
the sunset and the light,
all about Tuscany;
a combination admittedly
difficult to put into words

but, heady with wine
and love, we tried—
speaking long into
the night, recapping
a holiday not to be
forgotten; the fields of
sunflowers near Nice

turning their heads as
if just for us, and not the sun;
the scent of the tiny ├ęclairs—
we never can recall their
names— in that tiny place
near Vence; the art, oh

the art—too hard to pick
favourites but the
Pieta still brings tears—
groping for words,
a phrase, something—
Of course—leave it to the

je ne sais quois


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