The wind is up and the landscape is changing.
Like a bureaucratic comedy, tomorrow’s forecast calls for
‘strong winds,’ as if the gusts we’re seeing now aren’t
physical enough.
The big yachts that usually cluster offshore are gone.
They moved out, heading for deeper, more sheltered
anchorages.
We went to the outdoor Saint Tropez market this morning,
to get brugnon, abricots, rouge cherries, fresh bread and
tapenades. Fishermen in the harbor were working with
quiet anxiety to lash down and secure their boats.
On the beach, ocean waves are boring in on shore - sharper,
faster and frothier, rolling in more dramatically, tucking down
at the last second to break on the beach in sudden, forward
rolls - like you see on the gulf of Mexico.
Gulls, herons and swifts hang in the air, like sculptures in orbit,
not flapping - just rocking back and forth above the waves.
Clouds rush by, like a ticker-tape Rorschach test and the
umbrella pines are starting to shimmy like bobblehead dolls.
I wonder if the giant show kites will be up tomorrow,
the big 40-foot long ones - the whales, dragons, caterpillars,
and octopuses - I hope so.
We’ll have to watch those from the hills, because sand whips
along the beach, flowing like a sandpaper river to sting
bare ankles like a swarm of bees.
We had to tie-off our suites sheer Belgian linen drapes earlier,
they were thrashing like living flags of surrender.
I delight in this kind of domestic chaos, it makes me feel alive.
.
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Songs for this:
Riviera Life by Caro Emerald
Sail on sailor by the beach boys
Colors Of The Wind - End Title by Vanessa Williams