La Musarde

While swallows bring the evening to this air
and draw the curtains clouding late-day sun,
one blackbird serenades you in your chair.
He celebrates the beauty I have sung
in wintry walks along the cold North Sea.
He sings to you this summer eve in France
and I sit quietly by. I’m half in shade
and all in love, as when I saw you dance
into my sight and heart. I quite agree
he adds cachet as we sit vis-à-vis:
a vesper for provincial promenade.

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