The Evening Rhone

 

Forging up the evening Rhone

Leaning on a rail

Looking back to where the moon

Leaves a Van Gogh trail

Of pigment yellow ‘cross the waters

Subtle in nuance

Claiming here the mighty river

For the land Provence
Silhouettes in dark lines

Trees etched against the sky

As dusk glow fades to blackness

And far off hills pass by

Sleeping hamlets dot the banks

Each clustering round its church

Warm breezes fan the watcher

Alone here on his perch

Behind the bridge at Avignon

Ahead another day

Of lavender and sunshine

And sights that beg one stay.