Poem of the Week–Sanxay Roman Picnic

Sanxay Roman Picnic

Druid rocks dot an outline
viewed by a low-flying airplane;
a cross lies in quiet grass.

I kneel, hands clasped,
pray to Apollo in his ruins,
his chapel stones and hard remains.

The sweet pea twines my finger,
soft and living, pliable; and the white
daisy snaps its tiny yellow eye.

Jeanne DeLarm-Neri
Greenwich Branch, CT

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Comments

  1. Adriana Husta says:

    These are lovely images. An airplane flying in the air, a cross in the the grass, Apollo in his ruins.
    Vivid and moving. Best to you Jeanne De-Larm-Neri.

  2. Barb Whitmarsh says:

    MAME,
    DO YOU MEAN SAXANY? WHAT IS SANXAY IF YOU DO WANT THIS SPELLING?
    THANK YOU
    BARB WHITMARSH
    NLAPW – ST. LOUIS

  3. This poem is especially nice in its “smallness.” It celebrates a “small moment” and the sights and sounds that surround it. But it’s clear that this moment is spiritual, and that comes across beautifully. I love the imagery!