The downhill swoop

As the wide green fields pass along,

French Countryside. Pic credits: Self

I smile with wonder over where I belong,
Across three continents in a few weeks,
Here I am ready with a few tweaks...

A minute of silence, a gush of wind,
Roadside sunflowers along the bend.
Endless vineyards holding hands,
As if practicing group errands.

Castles sit peacefully caressed by nature,
With sculpted patterns of many a feature,
Stories of royalty very long gone,
Remain as an impression never forgone....

Colorful cafes, fancy bridges,
Croissants, baguette, souffle' and fudges...
Streets with music, walls with art,

The Group. Pic credits: Mike Fausone

Like wine and cheese, they are never apart.

Surprises in pockets of a small little town,
Churches and houses, all golden brown.
Dance, wine, food and geese et al.
A friendly tour-guide to top it all...

Alongside a few cheerful comrades,
As the golden sunshine slowly fades,
Chugging uphill, singing a song,
Pedals pushed harder, we go very long.

As I relish the downhill swoop,
I look at our chirpy little troop,
We make our way through it all,
We make it through each day without a fall.

Of people and culture we often hear,
But, friendships through travel are very much dear.
Miles from home and miles to clear,
A downhill swoop to drive away fear...