Boisson By Day, September 2018
The yellow eyes of feral cats haunting,
Largely silent streets, their inclines daunting;
High stone dwellings, their windows shuttered,
Too often shoddy, too regularly cluttered;
Invasive branches, their leaves a-tumbling
Towards twisting pathways, worn and crumbling;
Vacant homes, forlorn, for sale:
Forgotten, forbidding, frigid, frail;
Moths, wasps and mosquitoes abound,
Pigeons swing on sagged wiring above the ground;
Doors rot, forgotten, gates hang loose, unpainted,
Few stone facades remain untainted…
Yet in the distance sunsets linger and glow
On grey mountains, the fading gradual and slow…
And over it all a perfect Christ presides,
Whose blessed right hand Boisson’s fate decides…
Pete Ray
October 2018
Boisson by day…
Untidily lovely…
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