O Taste & See: Auvillar Edition

Karen Head Writing Poetry is a Luxury And she lets the river answer.

--Leonard Cohen The Garonne has no time to speak to me, a turbulent mix, its tidal bore menacing, pushes me away from the water’s edge— just another half-sunk barge run aground, just another bit of entangled driftwood.

Even the frogs mock me, growl and chirp warnings to keep my distance, silent only when I retreat.

From the opposite bank, a church bell chimes 11:00, in Auvillar the bells toll twice.

A reminder not to miss something?

The current is swift.

I am trying to write a poem.

The river will not answer me.

The river only speaks French.