The sky’s hung soft with leaves,
the generous shelter of plane trees.
First Wednesday of the month,
twelve noon, and all over France
air raid sirens raise their chilling
wail, hold for sixty seconds, pick
at the scab of memory. I’m in a
playground in central Montpellier,
a city steeped in the cloy of jasmine,
tumbles of honeysuckle, the clap
of detonating pigeons. Meet my
grandson, three-and-a-half, just
learned to ride a bike, no stabilisers.
Happy out. He throws the bike down,
runs to the swings. I look up, the sky’s
still hiding behind a canopy of green,
the risen shriek holds its note until,
diminuendo, the monthly minute’s
done. Silence takes its space back.
No one has noticed. No one is hurt.
Geraldine Mitchell’s fifth collection, Naming Love, was published by Arlen Press in 2024. She divides her time between Mayo and southern France. geraldinemitchell.net