Boisson Night
The silence makes me tread silently
Past high stone walls,
Through tunnelled arches,
Along undulating tight narrow streets,
Presided over by an amber Christ, patiently…
The stillness makes me step watchfully
Past high yellow lamps,
Above channelled arches,
Moths drawn to the glare, raving, indiscreet,
Blessed by an imperious Christ, sublimely…
The serenity makes me stroll carefully
Past high wooden shutters,
‘Neath funnelled arches,
Behind sinister, disturbed bats fleet,
Endowed by a glorious Christ, mercifully…
Pete Ray
October 2018
Walking the streets of Boisson, Gard, France, after dark…
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