Rains in Etretat

 

    

I remember the symphony of a cloudy day

When the Atlantic’s indigo blew,

In stark contrast to the chalks of white -

Caught unawares, us tourists few

 

From pebbly beaches to slopes of green,

On Normandy’s seas that melancholy mourn -

Layers of chalk in arches three

A philosopher needle, all on its own

 

And just like that, the winds picked up,

Like a banshee from the English seas,

In winds as those, no shelter helps –

And you seek liberty when the rains don’t cease

 

So we walked that day, all over drenched

In Etretat’s chalks of layered white

(Even Monet would have felt divined that day,

In passing clouds, the play of light)

 

We drenched that noon, under the bird of white

Notre Dame chapel closed in smile,

Sudden peace in the winter’s warmth

Blues and whites, mile after mile

 

In storms as these, some find their Gods,

Some lose their ways to find new ones,

Others salvage their broken souls

Obscured even in a thousand suns

 

That day, we wrote our words on the layers of chalk

The limestone cliffs completed the rest

That. the Atlantic’s winter trials all -

Only a jaded few do pass the test…

_______________

Author's note: Etretat was the favourite haunt of impressionist pioneer Claude Monet - he made over 50 paintings of the cliffs here including one titled 'Etretat in the rains.'

The White Bird was a French biplane that disappeared in 1927 during an attempt to make the first non-stop transatlantic flight between Paris and New York City. It was last seen at Etretat before disappearing in the Atlantic. Less than two weeks later, Charles Lindbergh successfully made the New York–Paris journey in the Spirit of St. Louis. Etretat houses a memorial for the World War aviation heroes who flew the White Bird.

(Writing these lines on a cloudy day here, as the vagabond mind wanders afar, this time even beyond the Sahyadri - my usual haunt for rainy, brooding, cloudy days)