Another Day On Delaronde

On Delaronde street sweat
runs beneath 200 year old
oaks and between breasts,
over gnarly roots and down
the curve of a belly.

Words of love, a melody in
French, weave through the
plumbago screen hiding a
pristine white gallery and
wafts on down the street,
fading into the distant sounds
of river traffic.

Laughter crackles with
the clink of glasses leaking
from behind wrought iron, amid
the slightly rustling palmettos.

Fans and pages turn, sun
tanned legs stretch out. The day
dissolves into evening. Time to light
the candles and pour the wine.


Shared on dVerse Poets Pub.
Read my first poem about Delaronde Street here.

14 thoughts on “Another Day On Delaronde

  1. You are illuminating this scenery and mood so vividly that I almost feel there … Who knows – maybe Zarité from “The Island Beneath the Sea” already promenaded there …


  2. Sounds like a plan. I like the way you build the mood in short phrases, with little flashes of light. animate/inanimate images.


  3. sounds like a great place to be with the laughter and french music..there are some places that just wait kinda with open arms and you feel at home even if you’re not


  4. You’ve really focused in on the images, the assorted snapshots that make for a day of being in tune with the ambience of place. The sense of place is very palpable; the lack of the narrator’s perspective adds objectivity, though not detachment, I think. The images are too intimate for that. I like the eay this is “embedded” in its environment, the passionate landscape seems to speak here.


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