The fierce torrent
 with a rustling and continuous trace
 masks the immobility of the peaks
 surrounded by silent fir trees.
  
 From the edge of the hand
 ridges and valleys
 inhale exhale nascent green
 the spruce heart of transparency.
  
 Between the gentian and the martagon lily 
 the groundhog smokes 
 with its coulis of little cries 
 the sheaf of fresh herbs.
  
 Feet packets and meal assumed
 we sprinkle with Loire wines and good words
 the roll-ball of the Drac pebbles
 under the shock of petanque balls.
  
 dew
 pearls of light offered to the frank leaves
 unfolds its iridescent breath
 of a germinal ray of grace.
   
 In his consecrated munificence
 in the manger of embraces
 at the bottom of black cast iron pots
 tumbled into the hearth of wonders
 by the geniuses of the mirror
 the garland of loud voices
 work on the sly
 at the Sans-souci establishment.
   
  
  
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