France in September by Janice D. Rubin
That Autumn I lived in the l'Hotel de la Petite Fleur
in the old part of Nice, la Vielle Ville.
The room four flights up
a narrow winding staircase built during the Inquisition.
The walls a light brown Italian plaster.
Walking through the ancient streets
to the sun crested blue promenade
past a noisy market. A medieval gothic church,
spires, stained glass: faces of saints
expressions of ecstasy.
Pigeons congregated
on the marble steps in sets of three
like siblings celebrating
a nephew's wedding
exchanging the family news.
I met with friends in cafes
drank red wine through the afternoon
talked of plans to travel
Greece in October
Spain in the Spring.
I understood the French life
the passion of love and food
the intuitive voices echoing within.
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