Sunday, June 14, 2015


© Madelaine Nerson Mac Namara, 2015, 


The Celts camp on the hill
the Romans build a spa.
A hundred years ago
Cézanne paints with his life
and Montagne Sainte-Victoire
a Provence Odyssey.

Aix may boast a Cathedral
an ancient Parliament,
to my seventeen Parisian self
it is an exile I try to make home,
seeking in vain the heart
of a riverless town.

One day I quit searching
the suburbs for small streams,
decree Cours Mirabeau
and its giant plane trees
flowing from East to West
equal to any Seine.

It's not the trees do it
but the blue, pink, yellow
chamaeleon mountain
they frame in four seasons.

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