Louise Eastin (Moses) Winter, 2018Summer in Bordeaux
We sit on the terrace in the evening with a loaf of bread from
the market, and cheese from the fromagerie we pass on the way home
where the man took me to the bar next door because the woman speaks
perfect English and helped him decide that what I want is this buttery
Roquefort and tomorrow he goes to Brittany for his annual holiday
and I say, ‘Bonnes vacances,’ and smile and accept his best wishes
for my next few days in Bordeaux and a safe journey home.
Life is a string of moments
none of which is insignificant.
Being is more important than doing: Beginning the day with the walk
and run by the river, tea and pastries on the terrace afterward,
forgetting to eat lunch because breakfast lasted too long, red wine under white
umbrellas, carrying food to the flat for sunset and dinner because home
is where we want to be.
Tonight the moon will hang
above the tiled rooftops, more
full than it was last night
less full than it will be tomorrow.
I don’t have a bucket list because
none of today would be on it.