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le vent

the wind dances down
the valley of the Rhone
and kisses the Golfe du Lion
before turning eastward
and following the coast
to Medville

she comes in many forms
gentle soothing caressing
her lightness of touch
bringing welcome relief from summer heat
or
she arrives suddenly in anger
stripping the golden mimosa
blasting sand into the eyes
of beach-worshippers
hurling garden furniture into swimming pools
raging for three days and nights

which is why
although in French le vent is masculine
I cherish her in the depths of my soul
as a lady

but now
as weather patterns change
increasingly she blows from the east
from Italy and beyond
or from the south
carrying the dust of the Sahara

and as she meanders
further northward
she tugs at my memories
and tempts me
and my heart yearns to follow