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.
Sebastian Barker © 2007