Near our village in a dense oak forest stands an abandoned chapel called Saint Placide, built in gratitude by people who centuries ago survived the plague that ravaged Europe.
Sometimes I take a walk there to admire the stone work, the human scale of the structure, the green shadows. It is small and beautiful.
In my thoughts I have made myriad plans for its use and collected funds for its repair. It could be used as a place for poets to read, musicians and dancers to create and painters to show their work.
One day I came and found a yellow-housed snail perched precisely on the keyhole.
Sometimes I take a walk there to admire the stone work, the human scale of the structure, the green shadows. It is small and beautiful.
In my thoughts I have made myriad plans for its use and collected funds for its repair. It could be used as a place for poets to read, musicians and dancers to create and painters to show their work.
One day I came and found a yellow-housed snail perched precisely on the keyhole.
a silver trail
on the oak door
shimmers
only a few walk
this narrow path
.on the oak door
shimmers
only a few walk
this narrow path
.
by Giselle Maya
Saint Martin de Castillon, Provence, France
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