Sebastian Barker

The Quercy Cross

There in the shade of the Quercy causse, the cross

Stands, as the bells of St Jean de Laur float over

The green auditorium of thin oak trees.

Patterns of sunlight rearrange their colour

As the wind strokes the oaks and settles down

To the fructification of the forest.

The sun pierces the leaves and stings the ground

With baking pools of stone in this neverest

Of ecclesiastical ascension

Towards the stone cross smacked with gold fungus,

An aureole of butterflies, the neon

Blue of the jet-threaded sky, the cicadas

Penetrating literature, with sharp teeth

Biting out the substance of my living breath.