La Fête des Filets Bleus
- Terry Hodgson
- Nov 16, 2020
- 1 min read
Concarneau - August
A young woman, a man much older,
Both dressed for everyday,
He holds her round the shoulder,
She him around the waist
As they chime in with each other.
Night falls, dancers shuffle
On and on along the quay.
They snake and circle,
Warm in the growing ache
Of the twilight chill.
Without a lull, indomitably,
The unflagging double song,
Rings out and on,
In the throbbing brazen rhythm
Of the Breton tongue.
©Terry Hodgson2020
Comments