Birdsong melded

with forest fragrance

.

butterflies danced

the exuberance of life

.

while I sipped

Chateau Le Touron,

Monbazillac.

.

I bathed

in the warm glow

of good fortune

.

as a gentle breeze

blew wispy cloud

across a painter’s sky

.

and then she appeared

with her soft

Mediterranean eyes

.

and the je ne sais quoi

of her Gallic mystique

.

and reality froze

when she sang

with her angel’s voice,

“Bonjour, Monsieur.”

.

My mind flashed

across 50 years

to the stumbles

that brought me

to this moment

in this paradise.

.

“Oui, bonnie lass,

a very good day.”