Les Fleurs Des Mots: Faire Du Foin Poem by Douglas Scotney
Les Fleurs Des Mots: Faire Du Foin
Un beau soir
je me promene,
et sens
trop beaucoup de foin.
Il a de mauvais gout soupcon
quand je dis 'bonsoir'
et ris aux eclats.
A beautiful evening
for a walk.
I say 'good evening'
and burst out laughing.
There's a hint of bad taste about it,
but the smell of grass is much too strong.
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4/19/2024 10:03:34 AM # 1.0.0.1119
A poem which rings true about taking an evening walk and noticing the odour of the grass. Memorable.