Poet’s Retreat

What drew my eye

was the scant advertisement,

Poet’s Retreat available

on a route du vin,

followed by a telephone number.

On arrival amidst the vines,

a coverlet of green corduroy,

I was surprised to see

you lived on your own,

in such a sprawling cottage,

apprehension and relief

balanced precariously on your brow,

a weighed smile that whispered welcome

Your handshake too

grape-stained, earthily soft,

I can still sense that warmth in my palm

as you proudly introduced 

the panoramic clos

before stepping 

deferentially behind my shoulder

wondering which words 

were calling to me from the vines,

thus my summer’s lease began

with sweet aromas and smooth wine.


© Graham Sherwood 12/2017