“It’s like falling through a poem” I said to myself
As we walked the cobblestone streets of Old Quebec...
…to the clippety-clop of horses hooves
But this is not your average poem;
it moves...
And people
Colorful clapboard cottages
A church steeple
Lighthouses
Cruise ships
Shops
Harbours
Piers
and homesteads...
....reminiscent
of yester-years
Cloud capped coves...
Beaches and bays
Farmland
Fishing boats
Villages,
Vistas with Vineyard and tree
And ever the rolling,
riveting
rhythm
Of the vast, blue sea
© Janet Martin