Afternoon Winter, Boucherie Over

The boucherie was over.

Relatives, neighbors gone

Each with their morceau ‘d voisin. 

Sky cloudless.  Air cold.

Winter sun starting its decline.

There was a table, used and solid, against the house,

Freshly washed, dried after serving as the boucherie altar.

The cold air was a perfect complement to the warm sun.

We sat upon the table,

Our backs against the house,

The sun in our faces.

Cold air, bright, warm sun.

That was a span of an afternoon to cherish.

--September 13, 2013