As the sun set on another day, the clouds floated towards the mountain tops.
Pinks, golds, oranges,
Whites, blues, greys and greens,
Moved and shifted in the diminishing light.
Church bells could be heard along with the chatter of aperitifs.
The time could be now or a hundred years ago; it did not matter.
People stay the same, their genetic lines carried in their facial expressions and movements of now.
The swallows – I’hirondelle (is there a more beautiful word?), swooped overhead and the boats below on the lake floated home to roost.
All was becoming still like the sun was leaving the stage for the silvery mood and sister stars to talk front and centre.
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