As Minerve turns into Félines

I almost fail this post
The nothing overruling me, my inspiration is gone
But then Minerve rises
But then her wisdom strikes
And Minerve turns into Félines

I almost bury this post
I now give it a new name
Since Aphrodite has joined
My accidental keyboard
And Minerve turns into Félines

I carefully blend this post
And make it a poem
Like Haitians poets
Bucolically draw daily life
As Minerve turns into Félines

I bravely push this post
Reckless, it goes through the world
It will finally say
What I wasn’t able to write
As Minerve turns into Félines

King’s quarry falls apart
Marbled
Minervois wines sparkles
Supreme
Awaiting for our arrival
Disappointed with our bypass

The mill’s winds shield our wander
Here
Bushes shadow
Ancien Mages
Our morning hours

Poetry intertwines with Botany
A few stories whisper
Grasshoppers make silence

Poetry intertwines with scenery
Winter is gone
Passes an angel

As Minerve turns into Félines

Only remains now
A messy poem
To keep head and hands busy
A backfired song
To try to look smart

No, this poetico-bucolic truce has nothing to do with Jove! I invite you, in order to both understand and make summertime linger, to stop by Félines Minervois’s Mill and meander through its botanic and poetic promenade.

Have a sweet September walk my friends.