Saturday, December 9, 2023

The Fontainebleau

The fountain at the Fontainebleau Resort,

a bronze nymph pouring water from

a watering can, was nicely patinated

but dry. Morning glories twined

around her thighs and waist,

formed a modest vegetable

bodice over her pale green breasts.


The pool was still blue

on sunny days, clouds reflecting

like cotton puffs between

the lily pads and cat tails.

Large-mouth bass patrolled

the edges hunting for incautious

frogs and the occasional duckling.


The travelers who found their

way to the former mountain resort

spread their own towels and blankets

on the bare frames of ancient

chaise lounges. Children still

shrieked and splashed each other, but

there were no poolside waitresses

bearing trays of Cokes and margaritas.


Some of the cabins around the perimeter

were abandoned, doorless

and windowless, inhabited by foxes

and raccoons. Others had been reclaimed

by whoever took a break from their wandering

for a season or a year. A few had

settled for good.


And it was good. A vegetable garden

where the lawn had formerly lain,

chickens and fruit trees, a few goats.

Home for some, a respite for those

who paused on their journeys

to water their horses or recharge

their electric jalopies or take a dip

in the cool blue waters of the resort

formerly known as the Fontainebleau.




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