From Colmar to Wettolsheim
I walk along route 30.
Turning off road
at first I see one giant cat.
Then 2 then 3
in line and scrambled
leaping over mountains
power lines shaped like cats.
Watching over this sleepy town
towering above the town church
their whiskers pulled one by one into each house
houses disguised as mountain slopes.
Yes
each house has a vineyard for a lawn
and fraser fir instead of palm,
you could come back any day
and it'd be Christmas everyday.
A merry ho-ho and a g'day to the winemaker
Bastien shamefully apologies
'not ready yet for a fine drop of nouveau'.
Not a square in sight
not a soul sharp as a razor
this, a walkers delightful sight.
Exhausted in the square I sit
distant church bells heard afar
dizzied by the Alsatian charm.
A dozen more ticks of the long hand
bus starting now with a dodgy clutch
I have some time to kill before first gear,
light a cigarette and drink a Fischer
to quench my needing spring thirst.