Coming home

may morning 2I escaped feverishly from Montpellier and my hotel room.
Drove straight through with just one stop for gas around Nimes and a bathroom break before the exit to La Garde Freinet.

Wind and gray skies all the way.

Yellow blossoms along the road, mixed with dry grasses waved as I rushed past, lost in thoughts of nothing and everything; minding the road and the crazies; watching for sudden gales that could push me into another lane; listening to 90 year old Aznavour talk about his friends and play his favorite songs… Lots of poetry in nostalgie.

This morning I look around the garden and the sky.
Happy little clouds frame the villas on top of the hill…

I hear the concert of turtledoves
As I open the shutters.
And I smile at the sun poking
through the hedge of boxwood
to light a thousand spots on wet roses.
The air holds the scent of jasmine
as she climbs her way along the fence,
because she must.

The bougainvillea holds on to his color
for me to wonder anew
and to remind me
that it has not been so long…

That I am coming home.
I have come home.


About emmylgant

Cloud watcher and dreamer sometimes wise, often foolish, but I am what I am.
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18 Responses to Coming home

  1. What is it about ‘Coming home’ that gives rise to such wonderful perspectives in one’s mind? Is it that intrinsicness of returning back to the womb?

    I think of these lines.

    “The air holds the scent of jasmine
    as she climbs her way along the fence,
    because she must.”

    Could it be that as we perceive the scented air climbing because she must, so to must we return?



  2. The mixture of frenetic prose and exquisite poetry creates a small masterpiece in two moods.


  3. Suz says:

    Lovely! Just lovely.


  4. PapaBear says:

    Coming home is always a wonderful, happy feeling. It’s always more warm and comfortable around the familiar. Wonderful imagery, Emm. You paint so beautifully with words.


  5. themodernidiot says:

    Haha dude who are the crazies?


  6. skipmars says:

    As I’ve said elsewhere, if I can see it, feel it, smell it and taste it, a writer has employed great sensibilities. Wherever it is you went home to, it made me want to be there, also. A nice journeyed writing with imagery I bathed in.


  7. Willy Nilly says:

    Welcome home Emm! I suspect Willy isn’t the only one that breaks out in Snoopy dancing from time to time.


    • emmylgant says:

      Quite right! Fingers Snoopy dancing and singing offkey while driving is an art form in these parts. While not driving the snoopy dance is encouraged while the singing much less so.


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