La Vauchère

Wild torrent rushes

Knocks rocks, pulls roots, tears at earth

Furious outpour


n.b. The gully formed by this stream echoes to the tumbling tumult of its headlong rush towards Lac Léman. The early morning aircraft rising to cruising height cannot drown out the constant swoosh of la Vauchère filling the air.

Yesterday’s snow showers, their cool flakes wet and heavy, will have done nothing to assuage the angry stream pouring from the heart of Pully.


CLP 05/02/2020


The last of the day’s brief Sun

Turned the far peaks pink

The lake, already deep blue in night’s shadow,

Trembled at the touch of the easterly breeze,

Flicked flecks of light from the opposite shore

As they walked

Venus discreetly led the fine crescent Moon

In a gentle arc falling beyond the Jura

Whose dark curtain rose from behind Geneva

As they talked

Of today and now

And what was done

And how different futures

Lay ahead

For them

Like two characters from a 1950s film

Constrained by unseen chains

The lock to which they couldn’t find

Although between them both

They held the key


CLP 01/02/2020


n.b. Realignment:

“The act of changing

Or restoring something

To a different

Or original


Or state”

Oxford English Dictionary

So basically moving something to somewhere else or putting it back where it was before.

CLP 01/02/2020


It sinks slowly

A wobble in descent below the surface

Indicates an uneven distribution of weight

Not as perfect a pebble as it felt in the palm

Not quite so round as the ripples above suggest

From the lake shore I watch as the rings of water gradually move apart


Today everything was still until I lobbed the stone

Rolled it from my hand

Last contact the very tip of my forefinger

The silent arc of the small white rock

Drew my eye up

Then down to the surface


A mallard with green head turned, beak tucked onto back, bobs on the soft disturbance

Sleek gull, fine wings slicing the air, makes a half-turn

It looks down at the change in the lake’s skin

Nothing worth bothering about it decides

So re-corrects its glide and sails on

Flutters with a squawk to perch on the wooden jetty


As the first weak ripple dissolves into the shingle

I feel a tear form

As if the watery dissonance had run on

Unbreaking to my soul

Salty rheum stinging my cheek

And I remember you being here too

Playing ducks and drakes

Counting the bounces

Delighted at the skimming stone discs

Before the inevitable sinking


CLP 13/01/2019

n.b. What lies beneath? See below