Greenlane Poetry

Vendanges

Annual arrivals in a fleet of foreign cars
pitching tents throughout the campsite
excitement mounting to the start of cutting vines
flocks of martins settle on wires and qiet houses
in the sultry baking afternoon
vendangeurs meeting full of happiness
shouting laughing meeting dancing
drinking well into the soft dark night

waking to a warm wind black cloud
downpour hammering ....
on their striped pavilions
dripping in the spray
and though doom-laden thunder rolls
and lightning in the clouds
the storm seems far away
they still will cut the vines

on my bike ride to the bakers
cold and quiet calm again
morning mist is on the Marne
only slowly thins to catch
groups of cutters starting out
glint of tractors peaceful vines
lucky we escaped the ise-storm
martins practice their long journey
from this westernmost Champagne