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.
Charlotte Hamrick 
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 …
LikeLike
What a wonderful thought, Martin!
LikeLike
I like this. Thanks. Love old houses. I was to go to New Orleans in ’97 and then my son came so I never made it. Definitely a place i want to visit.
LikeLike
I hope you make it down one day, Lilie! It’s a city like no other. 🙂
LikeLike
nice…this feels very comfortable…even with the heat….i like the music and laughter…been a while since i was in nawlins but def feels right…smiles…
LikeLike
Sounds like a plan. I like the way you build the mood in short phrases, with little flashes of light. animate/inanimate images.
LikeLike
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
LikeLike
Oh, Charlotte, your writing about New Orleans, always puts me right there. Thanks for that. 🙂
Pamela
LikeLike
lovely
david in Maine USA
LikeLike
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.
LikeLike
Ah, long hot evenings, even with the sticky air… but the candles and wine. Lovely.
LikeLike
Sounds like a great place, love all the vivid lines. 🙂
LikeLike
Thanks, everybody. xo
LikeLike
I’ve always wanted to visit New Orleans. This poem sits up there with Dr John in getting me quite a bit closer.
LikeLike