Provence

Cherry orchards of the Tricastin in spring,
White blossom thronging, and vines sullen, shorn;
Purple of lavender plantations;
Wan yellows,oranges and greys of the soil;
Château Lourmarin,ghostly sulphur pyre
Choiring in clairvoyant twilight;
And Bonnieux, abandoned to autumn mist,
Absorbed in pale tangerine sky.

Now the dragonfly summer has come,
Winter’s torrents are dusty river beds;
The almond trees on the Plateau de Valensole
Are dark green splashes against the mauve.
Across the Camargue, entrance to Hades,
Herds of white horses sweep through the swamps,
And a black bull stares towards the horizon,
His heart a gathering thundercloud.