I see the young vines, bright green

reaching high in their stillness, silently growing.

I look at the branches of the peach tree, motionless.

There is no wind and the air is saturated in oppressive heat.

For a moment leaves are disturbed –

small birds flit about, seeking ripe fruit from the old cherry tree.

The sun still beams its lemon light – translucent as it begins its descent;

dropping seamlessly behind the mountain top.

Silence, heat, and clear skies awash with blues and greys.

And every shade of green, splashed in the valley slopes,

creates a stunning picture – a landscape of unimaginable beauty.

La belle France!


The yellow parasol has no sun to block.

The terracotta roof tops cover a people within a world.

A vacant blue table and chairs, and orange-pink loungers

speak of a day sadly over.


It’s school tomorrow – but now, exhausted children take to their beds.

Parents have temporary relief as they claim their favourite chairs.

Quietly resting, they reflect on the hours which have gone by.


The ancient Church used to ring its bells.

The doors are open but the priest, now too infirm to serve.

The people are sad, for an era of friendship and love, is ending.

The sleepy village, once full of life, is now for tourists passing by –

gone is the noise of hustle and bustle, until it’s market day again.


Will it come back to its former glory?

Is there yet a new story to pen?


Where is life, but where Jesus lives?

Open your hearts, and let His Light in.

For everything is passing, but His truth and love are ever constant.


juliehughespoetry©francevillage2026