Click here to hear the poet read his words:
le Mistral
soft at first
brushing
high leaves
teasing
gentle
refreshing
building
but slowly
to a strength
that shakes trees
destroys parasols
abducts hats
rattles
windows and doors
clears the terrasse
of all
but the most solid
items of furniture
and
for three days
dryly
unceasingly
inflicts pain
sand and grit
in eyes
conversation muted
constant noise
in ears
gradually
fraying nerves
until
of a sudden
air is still
sky is clear blue
tranquillity
and good humour
return
to Paradise
* * *
Le Mistral
rests
patiently
ponders
his return
anelephantcant 
I’ve read that the Mistral is literally, like no other phenomenon – and that it literally, can drive a person right mad – for the sound of it. I would like to experience it, one day. (although I suspect I will not) … but for the wonder and descent into this intensity of having to fall back into oneself and surrender to an “otherworldly yet of this world madness” ….
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It is indeed a potent force of Nature.
Thanks for visiting and commenting, Pat
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Makes me think of Death in Venice. Lovely poem Bri.
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Interesting view, Bon. Lovely to see you here, thanks for kind words
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Le Mistral !
Qui transporte les pollens qui rougissent nos yeux
Et nous font éternuer .
Mais qui dégage le ciel de ses nuages monstrueux .
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Merci, Corine, faut accepter les mauvaises choses avec les bonnes choses, c’est la vie
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